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#unintentional groupie
weirdanecdotes · 2 years
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How I Met Mick Jagger
This is also how I became an Unintentional Groupie. If I hadn’t befriended a couple of DJ’s, I never would have had access to music stars. This story takes place in the early 60s. It may shock you to learn music was segregated by color. And calling people Black didn’t saturate society until a decade later. To avoid offending anyone, I have substituted polite words where needed. Nor were there any issues about cultural appropriation at the time. I must have been woke because I got upset when White artists ripped off Black artists. But my issue with it was a lack of authenticity and the literal theft. Anyway, this story actually begins...
After we moved from Brookhaven to Buckhead and there were no buses to take me to church, Papa used to drive me to Peachtree Road Methodist on Sunday mornings to attend classes and morning services. By the time I was fifteen, he decided to sleep in and shifted me to attending evening services and a youth club afterwards.
Despite the fact the youth club had a basketball court where we could dance in our socks, most of the youths skipped out soon after they were dropped off. Some of them had older friends with cars who picked them up and brought them back in time to innocently look like they’d never been away.
Others left in gaggles to wander the streets and I tagged along without being invited. There was a strip of shops next to the church and behind that on Mathieson Drive there was a rather fantastical old house built out of rough granite blocks that had a turret!
I had no idea why we going but climbed the steep driveway and the even steeper steps to the front door, which was shockingly unlocked. They didn’t even knock before pushing it open.
Inside, rock n’ roll music boomed and a sign on the wall announced we had entered WQXI Radio. Up yet another flight of steep steps, we arrived at a hallway with plate glass windows on one side. Behind a locked door on the windowed room sat a DJ doing his job. When he saw us, he grinned and waved. Then during the next musical interlude he asked what we wanted to hear.
That’s how I met my first disk jockey—Patrick Aloysius Hughes. I put the emphasis on his middle name like he always did on the radio. He practically sung it into five syllables—Al-lo-wish-she-us!
After that, I went by myself to visit him on Sunday evenings. I told him my Bill Lowery Story and he laughed like a maniac. Pat was as hyperactive as I was and I was too ignorant of the world to even wonder if his buzz was natural or snorted. I wanted to know everything about his job and he was glad to explain how everything worked. Of course, we talked about music. I also learned about The Industry that controlled everything teenagers were allowed to hear, about Payola and how new releases came with gift boxes that included tickets to VIP seating at sporting events.
It was probably a few months before he unlocked the door and let me into the control room to flip levers and twiddle dials. That dear man never made any kind of move on me. He simply enjoyed company. One Sunday evening, Pat rather ominously told me Paul Drew—the DJ who manned the midnight till dawn shift—was coming just to meet me. I naturally asked, "Why?"
"You're like a prodigy or something," Pat shrugged, "You know music better than I do."
Paul arrived and beside Pat they looked like a comic duo. Pat was a tall string-bean good ol' boy and Paul was a short, round, balding guy with a Yankee accent. Pat flat-out loved rock n' rock. Paul was cerebral and filled his airtime with “easy listening” Oldies like Frank Sinatra, some classical music and a sprinkling of cool jazz.
“I hear you know music like no one else your age,” Paul eyed me with respect.
“She’s uncanny,” Pat enthused, “If she says it’s gonna be a hit, it is!”
Rolling my eyes, I allowed, “I do recognize all the current trends built into a track but mainly—if I don’t like it—I reckon it will be a hit just to annoy me every time I hear it on the radio.”
They guffawed then Paul sat down and seriously asked, “What do you like?” He even pulled a notepad out of his back pocket & the pen from his shirt to take notes.
Feeling utterly intimidated, I answered slowly, alert for any negative reactions, “Anything by Modern Jazz Quartet, Miles Davis, his especially Sketches of Spain, Andre Previn’s soundtrack for The Subterraneans, Dave Brubeck. I’m currently hooked on Pachebel’s Canon in D, can’t stop listening to it over and over. But, here I must confess,” I breathed out in a whisper, “for fun, I listen to WAOK.”
“Of course, you do,” Paul bobbed his head and chuckled, “Chuck Berry invented rock n’ roll.”
Taking that as I dig, I insisted, “He actually did. And Little Richard…”
He held up his hand to forestall my ire, “I know, I know. What other white music do you like?”
“Recently, Jim Salle [another story] insisted I listen to a folkie debut album by Bob Dylan. He knows my tastes. I bought it. House of the Rising Sun might fit your format. I believe Dylan stole it from a couple of colored artists. I predict some rock n’ roll band is gonna steal it from him.”
It took over two years before my prediction came true but Paul Drew remembered and called to tell me he’d just gotten The Animals’ version and was promoting it. Looking back, I think was in a sense their ideal listener and articulate enough to explain my opinions. But also, I was pretty.
Shortly after I got my driver’s license, Paul called early one Sunday in an excited state. “The Rolling Stones are passing thru the airport today! Like, in a couple of hours they’ll have an hour layover. If you can get out there, I can get you into the Delta VIP Lounge.”
I replied indignantly, “I don’t like the Rolling Stones.”
“Heh,” Paul snickered, “Of course not, that’s why they’re massive stars. Their managers aren’t going to let me near them. But, sweetheart, you can get to them. They’ll probably come to you!”
I guessed, “Then I introduce them to you?”
“Exactly.”
I called my BF Ginny who was a Rolling Stone fan and a beauty. I looked exactly like this, the same dress, minus the bandanna:
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The Delta VIP Lounge had two levels. Immediately inside the entrance was a bar/café area but, on a higher guarded level, actual VIPs came to rest between flights. Ginny and I easily found Paul at the bar and he ordered us Coca-Cola’s with cherry syrup. The bartender added little umbrellas. We giggled like the schoolgirls we were.
Before Paul could detail his plan to gain access, The Stones arrived, loudly shouting profanities and obscenities. Like she was iron filings and they were magnets, Ginny slipped like a shadow past security, went directly to Brian Jones, and sat in his lap! He greeted her, “Well hello, baby girl!”
The guard may have taken that to mean we were expected because he stepped aside to let me follow her. I stood there uncertainly. From over three feet away, I could smell them. They were sweaty, filthy, uncouth, drunken fools. I glanced back at Paul, gave him a helpless shrug, and primly took a seat on a nearby Mid-Century Modern sofa, all imitation leather with chrome legs and trim.
I was stunned when Mick Jagger approached, took a seat at the other end, casually threw his arm over its back to turn towards me, and politely asked, “What brings you here this fine morning?”
I was stunned because unlike the other band members he was immaculately clean and well dressed in a blue-stripped seersucker jacket, a spotlessly white shirt, khaki slacks, and white buck shoes with red rubber soles. He looked like a prep school poet who did not belong with his rowdy bandmates.
I was stunned because color photography had not accurately rendered the paleness of his strawberry blonde hair, ice blue eyes, flawless cream complexion, ruddy schoolboy cheeks, or his mouth! Good gawd! I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in person and that took my breath away. I literally could not answer him.
He tried again, “Where are you coming from? Where are you going?”
“I’m just here because you are,” I whispered, “My friend is a DJ who would like to talk to you.”
He snapped, “That’s not going to happen,” breathed out his boredom in a shuddering sigh then asked, “Are you a fan?”
“No,” I gestured toward Ginny who had moved onto Keith Richards’ lap, “but my friend is.”
“Oh gawd,” he drawled at the scene, flipping delicate fingers to dismiss it from his thoughts, and turned his attention back on me. “Do you think we might have enough in common to have a decent conversation to pass the time?”
“We could talk about music." I turned a bit petulant, "I don’t like you because Little Richard did you first.”
“I don’t deny that,” he wasn’t offended, “He taught me all about performing on stage. I bet you don’t like the Beach Boys either and certainly not Pat Boone.”
I managed to smile and agreed, “Definitely not. I won’t hold your Little Richard impersonation against you personally. I’m sure he appreciates being introduced to music fans who would never know about him otherwise. Seeing you dressed as you are today it’s hard for me to imagine how you became a rock n’ roll star. Didn’t you study at the London School of Economics?”
He archly declared, “Economics is so boring.”
“I don’t think so,” I countered, “I got an A-plus in Economics.”
He stunned me yet again by gracefully sliding across the sofa to sit closer to me and eagerly shared, “Then you understand I was on track to work in a bank or, if I was lucky, maybe I’d be a stock trader. Now Keith and I go way back. We started a garage band and did covers of soul artists. We did gigs for audiences who had no idea they were listening to colored music. So while I was preparing to handle other people’s money just to earn a small share of it, I could already sing like Little Richard and saw, shall we say, a market opening.”
He paused and I inserted, “So it’s all about the money.”
Looking directly into my eyes, he insisted, “And my true love of R&B. Please don’t think of me as a rip-off artist. I’m paying homage to artists who are better than I’ll ever be and get them into bigger and better venues. We’re all getting rich together.”
I boldly asked, “May I quote that when I tell my DJ friend about our conversation?”
“Please,” he drew back in mock chagrin, “you can tell whoever you like. I’m not sharing any secrets. But let me enjoy having a real conversation with a pretty girl who doesn’t want to rip my clothes off. I feel like we’re connecting…intellectually. ”
“We are indeed,” I bobbed my head in agreement. "What I like about Economics is it creates the delusion that we control money instead of money controlling us."
I remember his eyes flying wide in surprise and how his teeth sparkled when he grinned but the rest of our conversation is a blur. It's not that I've forgotten our joking banter. My brain simply didn't imprint any memory cells while I was in the midst of a significant life-altering experience.
I relied on the etiquette lessons I'd been forced to take to maintain my decorum. In case you don't know what I mean, I kept my legs demurely crossed at the ankles, knees together, hands relaxed in my lap, back straight, chin up, and spoke softly. I was trained to be a Southern Lady.
I'm amazed I didn't quiver just a bit because I was experiencing sexual attraction for the very first time. It wasn't lust. I was simply overwhelmed by wanting a man to kiss me. I'd gotten kissed at Vacation Bible School when I was 13 and felt nothing. It was not an experience I sought to repeat until I met a man who glowed like an angel. People who have artistic souls and enough talent to become famous are not ordinary. They possess Charisma—a magical ability to enthrall others.
I have the vague impression I was witty and his laughing grin was the living embodiment of joy. I'm serious. That man's ridiculous mouth is a caricature like a Comedy mask made for Greek Theater masks.
The spell was broken when a man called his name and he turned away to hear they were cleared to board their next flight. He stood up and so did I. He looked me up and down in appraisal and I got nervous, "Um, ah, I'm so glad I got to meet you. I now admire you as an artist and a person.”
AND HE BLUSHED!
I nearly fainted but got distracted by Ginny getting French-kissed goodbye by Brian Jones then noticed how Mick stood, awkwardly fidgeting like he couldn’t decide how to say goodbye. Subtle body shifts suggested he might try to hug me. If he did, I might break down in tears.
Instead, I offered my hand and he held it gently while saying, “You’ve made my day. I’d ask for your number but I have no idea when I’ll ever be in Atlanta again. This has been an extraordinary encounter. Thank you so much.”
“The pleasure has been all mine,” I gushed then giggled girlishly.
“No,” he drawled, “we shared the pleasure.” He started away but turned back to add, “You know my mates aren’t going to remember your girlfriend but I’ll probably never forget you.”
He was wrong about that. Less than two years later, Ginny was in the UK living with Brian Jones! I never expected to hear from him and, therefore, wasn't disappointed.
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zappedbyzabka · 7 months
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UH OHHH I'm thinking about groupie johnny now... [screams]
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Every damn time I see this photo, I want to scream. Why are they firmly ass to crotch? How long was he holding him like that? And he was teaching him a LOVE song. Look at how cute and happy he is about THE Eddie Van holding him.
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Here are some quotes from Billy that paint him as a …band follower. (He’s an adult when he actually meets Eddie in the story he told.)
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(Those silky honey caramel thighs OML🫠)
If that isn’t some unintentional singer-groupie behavior—
Dutch and Tommy, for sure, took him to a lot of concerts. There is a high chance of them wearing smudged eyeliner (that skeleton makeup was so clean and nicely done.) They stayed attacthed to him like damn bodyguards—there were plenty of hands reaching out to grope thinking they wouldn’t get caught—big mistake. Wrists sprained and fingers twisted.
But the singers—they knew the singers could touch Johnny, and they’d have to accept it because that’s what Johnny wanted.
Tommy loves trouble, and Dutch is trouble. But funnily enough, they’re the only things holding each other back from tearing the singer plowing Johnny off of him and leaving an impression on the other bandmates enjoying his wanton behavior, and waiting for their turn.
Johnny is a lot more more unhinged when he’s by himself at concerts, and he can act as titalating as he wants. He always stands up front; he always catches the band’s attention just by being there—other times with his yelling and excitement. Demand for that attention.
Truly a siren for any type.
He almost went on tour with some of them like an official groupie, but he was wary (scared) to be dependent like that, and Bobby would have been pissed if he had.
Yet it was so nice to have all those privileges. Songs dedicated to him randomly at shows, (probably even one about him) and free merch.
He was “taught” how to play guitar by a mix of all of them eager to teach him because he really played up the bimbo act for them—like he hadn’t gone to violin lessons from 10-13 and zero idea how to hold an instrument. it was actually pretty enjoyable to just turn off his senses and pretend he really was nothing but a dumb, pretty boy like some said he was.
He was forced out of that lifestyle when he started actually working—stripping, modeling, and construction. It took a lot of his time, and there was enough dick in those places to keep him satisfied. He much prefers being a groupie if he’s being honest, but a happy house would be great too.
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goodemethyd · 8 months
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Mastery - anarcia fight club au - ch 4
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Summary:
As the reigning champion of the underground fight club she competes in, Anetra is used to getting everything she wants. She has great renown, more money than she knows what to do with, and countless beautiful women constantly throwing themselves at her.
Marcia has never even heard of the fight club before Luxx drags them there one night. When Marcia meets Anetra, they are determined not to fall into her allure, no matter how hard Anetra works at it.
In the process, everything Anetra and Marcia think they know gets flipped upside down and turned inside out.
A/N: it's the anarcia fight club au! finally! since it is a fight club au there's obviously gonna be mentions of violence and injuries and blood, but nothing will be super graphic
Read on AO3
Since the night Anetra met Marcia, she’s added an unintentional new step into her pre-fight ritual. Every time she stands in the ring, before stretching and going through her usual routine, Anetra now scans the crowd carefully. Normally she doesn’t care who is or isn’t there. She cares about her opponent and how she’s going to take them down.
Now, though, Anetra is looking for someone in particular. She’s looking for Marcia.
Unfortunately, since that first night, Anetra hasn’t seen Marcia at a single one of her fights–no matter how many times Anetra has invited them–and it’s starting to throw her off her game. Not enough to make her lose, of course, but enough for other people to start to notice.
The crowds notice when Anetra isn’t as thrilling and entertaining as usual, ending fights as quickly as possible and without any fanfare. The faster she can finish, the sooner she can keep working on winning Marcia over completely. It’s a little easier now that they’ve become an odd version of friends after their date, but Anetra can’t stop there.
Anetra’s opponents notice when they get in easy hits that would never have landed if Marcia weren't occupying at least half—if not more—of her thoughts. It never gets as bad as it did the first time, when Anetra got the shit beat out of her and almost lost. But Anetra sports a few more bruises than usual these days.
The most damning of all, though, is when Robin notices. And–not surprisingly–it doesn’t take her long.
Not when Anetra stops flirting back with all the available women throwing themselves at her. Not when she starts returning to their apartment earlier and earlier instead of spending her nights with those available women.
The usual horde is throwing themselves at Anetra just a few moments after she knocks Aura out and wins another fight. They’re cute and Anetra knows they’ll put out, but none of them even come close to Marcia. So it’s easy for Anetra to sidestep all of them and grab her phone from her bag so she can check the time, wondering if she can convince Marcia to hang out if she showers fast enough.
“What are you doing?” Robin asks when she opens her car door and sees Anetra sitting in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone.
“I’m going home, what do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Robin repeats, clearly mocking her. “I mean you’ve literally never come back to the apartment at the same time as me after a fight. You’re usually too busy with your little groupies.”
“Whatever,” Anetra shrugs. Robin’s not wrong, and Anetra doesn’t want to give her any extra fuel for reading her. Robin apparently doesn’t need any extra fuel, and can read Anetra fine enough already. She does so easily on the drive back to their apartment.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day when you were whipped like this.”
“I’m not whipped,” Anetra protests immediately.
“Uh-uh, darling.” Robin shakes her head and glances at Anetra quickly before turning her gaze back to the road. “You’re whipped. And it’s not even for one of your groupies who willingly throws themselves at you. It’s for someone who doesn’t want you back for once. I should have known.”
“Shut up,” Anetra says, but it sounds weak even to her own ears. She knows that Robin is basically right, and that pisses her off even more. Anetra isn’t usually this pathetic. It’s an unwelcome reminder about why she’s been avoiding relationships for so long. She always ends up in too deep, and it only leads to her getting hurt.
Maybe there’s a reason it’s with someone like Marcia. Someone who doesn’t want Anetra back no matter how hard she tries. Maybe with such a slim chance of actually being in a relationship with Marcia, Anetra subconsciously believes she has a less chance of getting hurt.
They’re both silent for the rest of the ride home. Anetra is grateful that as many times as she feels Robin side-eyeing her, she at least doesn’t say anything else.
When they reach the apartment, Anetra slams the car door behind her and practically runs to the door. After a fast shower, Anetra grabs the keys to her bike and slips on her jacket before rushing out the door in a huff.
After driving around aimlessly for a half hour or so, trying to clear her head, Anetra finds herself coming to a stop in front of Mistress Isabelle’s Pizzeria.
“Malaysia!” Anetra yells into the back once she gets inside. “I need your advice!” She heads to her usual table and waits for Malaysia to help her get her shit sorted like she always seems to do.
“You look like shit,” Malaysia says as she approaches Anetra’s table with two slices of pizza and a beer. Malaysia drops into the seat across from Anetra and stares at her, a mixture of judgment and amusement tinged with genuine concern on her face.
“Thanks.” Anetra snorts out a laugh and takes a long swig of her beer.
“So what’s wrong?” Malaysia asks before Anetra even has a chance to take a bite of her pizza, not wasting time with pleasantries.
“Ugh,” Anetra groans and drops her head down on top of her hand where it’s resting on the table next to her uneaten pizza. “I like someone,” she admits as she lifts her head back up. It feels like she’s just confessed to something akin to violence.
“Usually that’s a good thing,” Malaysia says, confusion evident in her voice. “Who is it?”
“Their name is Marcia,” Anetra answers, disguising the smile that she can’t keep off her face with a giant bite of pizza.
“Oh wait, is that who you brought in here the other day?”
Anetra nods and takes another drink, refusing to elaborate.
“They were cute. So what does liking Marcia have to do with your shitty mood?”
“Marcia doesn’t like me,” Anetra practically whines, and she feels pathetic again. The feeling doesn’t go away as she tells Malaysia the rest of the story.
“Why don’t you just tell Marcia how you actually feel?” Malaysia suggests. “Instead of playing your little games that are clearly not working.”
“Ugh,” Anetra groans again, covering her face with her hands. Maybe if she can’t actually see Malaysia it will be easier to ignore the advice she doesn’t want to hear–no matter how sound it is. “I’m not supposed to like anyone anyway.” Anetra says, reminding herself almost as much as she’s informing Malaysia. “Liking someone only ends with heartbreak.”
“Anetra,” Malaysia says, her voice soft and gentle. “I know you’ve been hurt before and that totally sucks. I wish you never had to go through any of that. But if you don’t open up your heart and put yourself out there instead of continuing to do whatever it is you’ve been doing, you’re gonna be the one who ends up hurting yourself.”
“When did you get to be so wise?” Anetra asks, uncovering her face to look at Malaysia again and swiping her hair back out of her face. If it weren’t the exact opposite of what Anetra wants to hear, Malaysia’s advice would be perfect.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve always been this wise.”
Anetra snorts out a laugh again. “Thanks, friend,” she says. Even though it’s not what she wants to hear, Anetra knows that she should take Malaysia’s advice. And she will. Probably. Eventually.
“Anytime, friend.” Malaysia places a hand over Anetra’s. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”
“That makes one of us,” Anetra murmurs. She finishes her beer and stands up to hug Malaysia before she slips her leather jacket back on, takes her keys from her pocket, and leaves the pizzeria.
As she heads outside and climbs onto her motorcycle, Anetra’s thoughts are still centered around Marcia. But this time, Anetra has a specific location in mind to try to rid those thoughts from her head, because she’s not ready to take Malaysia’s advice yet. She takes the most direct route, driving faster than she should, and it doesn’t take long at all to arrive at her favorite bar.
She switches to hard liquor once she’s inside, intent to get drunk enough to forget about Marcia completely. Anetra’s not whipped, and she’s going to prove it to herself and to anyone else who even thinks about asking. She’s going to find someone else to hook up with to take her mind off Marcia. She scopes out the bar as she chugs down drink after drink, looking for the lucky lady who she’ll go home with.
When no one on the dance floor catches her eye, Anetra sets her sights on the hot bartender with the amazing rack. What’s even better–with her short dark hair that’s buzzed on one side and the impressive ink covering her arm–she doesn’t remind Anetra of Marcia at all.
“Hey, sexy,” Anetra purrs. Well, she tries to, but with as much alcohol as she’s consumed in the short amount of time she’s been at the bar, it comes out as more of a slur. She doesn’t let it deter her though. “Let me know when you get off so I can take you home and help you get off a few more times.”
“Cute,” the bartender quips in a way that tells Anetra she thinks it’s very much the opposite.
That’s not enough to deter Anetra either, and she breaks out all of her best moves–only hindered slightly by her inebriated state. But Anetra’s best isn’t enough tonight, and the hot bartender turns her down. Repeatedly.
Now she reminds Anetra of Marcia in the worst way. 
Eventually Anetra admits her defeat, and she feels worse than she did when she first arrived at the bar. She’s in no state to drive home–probably can’t even keep her motorcycle upright just sitting in the parking lot–so she looks through her phone for someone to come pick her drunk ass up.
When Anetra’s eyes focus on the small words on the small lit up screen in front of her, she realizes she’s in the M’s section of her contacts. She realizes she’s looking for Marcia’s name, but it’s not there. She doesn’t have their number.
Instead of recognizing it for the blessing it actually is, Anetra takes it as a problem that needs to be solved. She knows just how to find the solution.
Anetra - 1:09 amrobinnnnnnnn i need. luxx a number!!!!!!!
In lieu of a text reply, Anetra’s phone starts vibrating in her hand with an incoming call from her roommate.
“Robin,” Anetra says when she picks up, dragging out the vowels in her name. “I need Luxx’s number.”
“Why?” Robin asks slowly.
“So she can give me Marcia’s number,” Anetra answers like it should be the most obvious thing in the world.
“Absolutely not,” Robin says immediately, and Anetra frowns. “Drink some water and do not drive home! Do you need me to come get you, honey?”
“No,” Anetra answers petulantly. “I’ll be fine.” She’s already trying to think of the ways she can get Marcia’s number.
After she hangs up with Robin, Anetra orders some water and pouts by herself at the bar for another hour after she fails to procure Marcia’s number. By then she feels sober enough that she can walk home without ending up passed out on the side of the road somewhere. She doesn’t want to bother Robin anymore, and she can always come back to get her bike tomorrow.
In the morning, Anetra regrets all of her life decisions. She feels slightly more alive after she gets out of the shower and takes some ibuprofen, but her head is still pounding and reminding her of her failures from the night before.
Hoping the fresh air will help, Anetra puts in her AirPods and walks to the bar to pick up her motorcycle. She feels a little better by the time she gets there. The comforting and familiar feeling of climbing onto her bike helps even more.
Anetra would almost say she feels good right now, but that would be pushing it a little too far. She feels adequate at most as she rides back to her place. Once she gets near campus, Anetra thinks of a solution for her last problem. Because while she may not have their number, she does know where Marcia lives.
She parks her bike in front of Marcia’s townhouse, grateful for the extra helmet she keeps just in case. Marcia answers the door when Anetra knocks, wearing fluffy pink pajama pants and an oversized Barbie t-shirt. The small smile that comes to their face before they can school it back into a neutral expression already has Anetra feeling slightly better.
“What are you doing here?” Marcia asks, crossing their arms over their chest.
“Good morning to you too, Princess.” Anetra grins, doing her best to ignore the slight headache that’s still lingering from her hangover. “You should come get breakfast with me.” She needs to eat some hangover food, stat.
“Okay,” Marcia agrees without argument for once. Anetra is pleasantly surprised.
“Okay,” she repeats. “Did you want to change, or…?” 
“Nah, I’m good. Is that a problem for you?” Marcia challenges.
“Not at all, Princess. You look absolutely adorable,” Anetra says, winking and getting a pretty pink blush in exchange.
Marcia follows Anetra outside after they yell a goodbye to Luxx, and they’re both quiet as they walk toward Anetra’s motorcycle. That changes as soon as they reach it, though.
Anetra climbs onto her bike and pulls her own helmet on. “Here,” she says, holding out the second helmet and offering it to Marcia. “This one’s for you.”
“This is yours?” Marcia asks, voice high-pitched and tinged with alarm. “What happened to your car?”
“That was Robin’s car. I didn’t think you were ready for the motorcycle yet on the first date. Apparently I was right.”
“Apparently,” Marcia says, crossing their arms again. “Because I’m not getting on that thing.”
“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll keep you safe,” Anetra promises.
“Yeah, no. I’m going back inside.” Marcia turns around to head back toward their townhouse, but Anetra reaches out, grabbing their hand and pulling them back.
“I swear it’s safe. But if it’ll make you feel better, we can walk. We can find a place that’s not too far.” That will change her plans, but Anetra would rather make that change than go without Marcia.
“Fine,” Marcia says after a beat of contemplative silence. “We can walk.”
So Anetra takes off her helmet, leaves her motorcycle parked in front of Marcia’s place, and they walk to breakfast together.
Once they’re done eating, Anetra insists on paying–no matter how much Marcia protests. After multiple cups of coffee, an ungodly amount of hash browns, and a morning full of Marcia’s company, Anetra feels so much better. Her hangover doesn’t even bother her anymore.
After they walk back to Marcia’s townhouse, Anetra makes sure to get Marcia’s number before they go back inside. She silently vows not to drunk dial them as she programs Marcia’s contact info into her phone and sends them a text so they have hers too. Once she hears the chime coming from Marcia’s sweatshirt pocket–guaranteeing her that it really is their number–Anetra says goodbye and heads back to finally take her motorcycle home.
The smile doesn’t leave Anetra’s face on the walk to her bike. It’s still there when she climbs on, pulls on her helmet, and starts the engine. Anetra decides to drive around for a while before she goes back home, determined to get as much joy out of the morning as she possibly can.
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For the OC ask game Self + Social Circle + Family + Exit.
Yayyy! I'll be doing these for Disco :)
Disco-Spider OC Asks:
Self: How is your OC's relationship with themself? Does your OC like who they are? Is there anything about themself that they would change?
Diane is remarkably self-confident, but it's less about self-security, and more about the lack of self-reflection every once and a while. Disco largely defines herself by the company she keeps (hence the 'proud groupie') thing, and that attaches widely to the Spider Society - she's drank the kool-aid. Diane cares about the Society deeply, and she's happy with herself and her place so-long as Jess is happy with her. She's going through her canon events one after another, and tells herself that it's a good thing - for the good of the universe - even if it tears her apart a lot of the time. But, on occasion, she may drop a comment that lets on the fact that if she could, she would not be Spider-woman. She's happy that she's helping people and she's good at what she does. She likes her life. But she had actual dreams. And goals. But those have been dashed by canon - Miguel already told her becoming a star isn't in her canon, so why even try? So she tries not to think about it and just sticks with what she's best at.
Social Circle: What's your OC's social circle? Are they obligated to spend time with others in their circle, or are they happy to be there? Has their social standing and social circle ever changed, and if so, how did your OC feel about it?
Diane is a natural introvert. She was raised in the house of a Black Panther Party chapter, so all throughout her childhood, she was surrounded by people and community. She likes to keep her circle large. She likes knowing everyone, and hanging out. When Miguel and Jess are looking the other way, her and Pavi like organizing parties for the Spider-people, a different universe every time. She lost most of her family and chapter prior to joining the Society, so having a whole group of people like her means a lot. She loves being around other Spider-people.
Family: What's your OC's family like? Is it a family of blood, choice, or something else? How does your OC feel about their blood relations? If they have a family of choice, how did they come together?
Diane honestly sees Jess as her only family. Which is..not at all healthy. Diane lost her Aunt May a few weeks prior to joining the society, and Jess carries a striking resemblance to her. Disco-Spider has been Jess's apprentice since she joined the society (but who knows how long the societies existed because TIMELINESSSS). Disco sees a lot of the Society as family, but Jess is the only one she'd consider blood. And she'll listen to Jess - and by extension Miguel - even if it means letting them make large decisions for her (like a future arranged marriage - long story short, she's met her 'MJ' and she was not impressed, but....canon) Jess doesn't talk to her like a daughter, but she does care to some extent. But it is another case of the society taking advantage of Diane's loss of family, the same way they do with Gwen's homelessness. Not all bad though, Diane sees Gwen as a little sister and vice versa, and the events of ATSV is what sparks her confronting Jess - and eventually leaving the society.
Exit: Has your OC ever had someone important leave their life in a way that was unremarkable, unintentional, or clumsy? How do they feel about it? Is there any chance they'll meet again?
Disco-Spider's Deadpool!
Diane and Wallace Walker have known each other since they were little, raised in the same Black Panther Chapter. He's always had a crush on her - and always took the 'fighting for our rights thing' a little extreme. Always a problem child, always a couple screws loose. He was vigilante before she was. Once as child, before that all started, Wallace saved Diane's life from police, and he's has been trying to recapture that feeling every chance he gets. But Diane doesn't need saving anymore. And now that she's Disco-Spider, he's fallen even harder. Sometime in the last few years though, Diane entered the society - and began trying to speedrun her canon events. A lot of shit has hit the fan, including a Doc Ock and a close mutual friend becoming Green Goblin. He doesn't know what's up with her. He just know that sometimes, she disappears for months at a time, and everytime he does see her, she's either going through it, or talking about some dude named Hobie. Doesn't matter to him though. He still cares about her, and he knows what it's like to feel like you don't have your head on straight. He's not chasing her, but he hopes to see her again, and he hopes the next time he sees her, she's still good ol' Diane.
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infinitelycynical · 2 years
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We need somebody to write a fic where Ide and Aizawa are like these hot greasers 😭😭 Matsuda should be the groupie 😭😭
stop absolutely 😭 if i had any motivation to write i would write this (maybe i will write this?) since i didn't know what type of greaser you were talking about (50s-60s american subculture or the outsiders kind), i did both!
(CHECK TAGS)
PERSONALITIES:
i've just done some research on greaser culture and this would actually suit aizawa perfectly according to my headcanons - did you tailor this post for me op?? in my mind, aizawa's half african-american - right? he probably grew up on the whole "you stick with your own, you are loyal to your own and you would do anything for your group" sort of mentality. this applies whether you are talking about the 50s-60s greaser variety OR the outsiders greaser variety - both of which are similar but not quite. i think it works either way.
to fit ide into this, he pretty much follows aizawa wherever he goes like a lost puppy and doesn't care much for people. when i think of ide's characterisation, i think solely of @zaney-hacknslash 's characterisation of him. if you read zaney's death note fics, even briefly (because they are very long, reading them is an all-day sort of event) you'll kind of see what i'm talking about. ide suits this greaser subculture very well, because he's loyal to his group (i.e. Aizawa) and doesn't care too much for the world outside of what is significant to him. he doesn't even care too much about his job.
AND YES YES GROUPIE MATSUDA >>>>
he just thinks they're real neat. aizawa and ide are cool, they're broke and they spend more time being a public nuisance at the cinema than doing anything else really but matsuda just thinks they're awesome.
to me, this could work platonically, romantically, sexually, or found family. this really is a great concept and i love it so so much.
POTENTIAL AUS:
groupie!Matsuda in the NPA, criminal greasers Aizawa&Ide: in this au, matsuda would keep getting any cases they may be involved in (perpetrator or not) and letting them slide. at first it's unintentional but as he interviews them more and more, he lets them get away with so much more than they deserve. aizawa and ide have no idea how 'luck' is on their side every fucking time but they're pretty grateful for it.
they also think that the smiley policeman who interviews them every time is actually pretty sweet - sweet enough to be protected by them, perhaps? matsuda's naivete is a significant part of his character in this au, as are the boys' lack of it. other criminals see him as a good target - but the boys aren't having any of it. matsuda is at first shocked, but then he just embraces it.
one day, aizawa and ide go to the station to pick up matsuda and take him to see a movie and soichiro is like "what are you thugs doing in these parts" then matsuda approaches and ide's just like "hey kid" and matsuda just grins and aizawa puts an arm around his shoulders. "we're seeing a movie!" matsuda grins, "thanks for letting me off early, chief!" and soichiro tries so many times to warn matsuda away from following and admiring the two but he ignores this every time.
in this same au, matsu is family-friends with the yagamis, he has been since he was a kid because their families got along. as matsu got older, they became more distant from his family but closer to him and he feels like they're on his side. but they keep warning him away from aizawa and ide, who are also on his side. why is that, he wonders?
high school au, outsiders au: aizawa and ide are kinda famous among the greasers, the same way bob was in the socs (the outsiders) and despite being a soc, matsu is really really attracted to them. obviously the age difference would be less in this au, and other characters would be sorted into greasers or socs. (e.g. light, matsuda, misa, takada and sayu are all socs. aizawa, ide, L, mikami, mello, matt & near are are all greasers.) things get complex realllll fast.
--
that's about it for now
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calvin-af-crone · 2 years
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Ya'know, it's not what you've got, it's who ya' know in The Industry. Now I have to edit & post the stories mentioned in this one to give you a fuller appreciation of how I accidentally lucked into a network of mentors who nurtured and shaped my love of music.
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farfromtommy · 4 years
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Social Media AU Masterlist
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Wedding Day 
Wedding Photoshoot
Twins
Tropical Honeymoon
New Additions
New York
Best Friends? 
Oscars 
Broadway
Disneyland 
Christmas with the Hollands
Holidays
Sister
Baby Jake 
NYU Graduate 
Thirsty 
Soulmate
Surprise 
Bali 
Suggestive
Uncle Tom
The Groupie and the Photographer
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Dating?
Baby Boy
Behind the Scenes
Princess
Family Vacation
Maternity Photoshoot 
Daddy Daughter Date
Christmas Baby
Quarantine Adoption
No Sleep
Secrets
Churros and Magic Carpets 
Island
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First Day of School
Little Boy 
Miss to Mrs 
Mrs Stan 
Honeymooners 
Baby Stan
Fall Festivities 
Disney Vacation 
Christmas 
Long Distance 
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The Boys
Little Lady
Lucky
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Coming Soon... :)
Other Characters
Harrison Osterfield
NYC Quarantine 
*headers made by me! any similarities with anyone else is completely unintentional!!*
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elliotsblunt · 2 years
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Idk if you got my ask but I was thinking about Dominic x grupie!reader and I got really horn knee like imagine being his whore on tour (unintentional rhyme)
Btw not asking for a fic or anything just wanna share my hot thoughts
that’s actually so fucking hot
i’ve always wanted to be the musician that has the groupie wink
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weirdanecdotes · 2 years
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“You My Kind”
In 1969, I was nineteen and working my way through college by modeling. I got some good jobs, but mostly I accepted whatever bookings my agent could get for me. Atlanta was having its first “Film Festival” and I got booked to be one of the award bimbos. You know what I mean, something pretty in the background that steps forward at the appropriate moment to hand the honoree their plaque and then gently leads them off the stage when their acceptance speech goes on for too long. The event took place in the Regency Hyatt ballroom.
I packed a small bag the night before and came straight from classes to arrive on time, changed into something slinky and applied my stage make-up in the ladies’ room across the atrium from the ballroom entrance.
I figured the evening was going to be exceptionally boring and since it didn’t take any brains to be a bimbo I thought I’d make the evening more interesting by dropping a small hit of acid. I lounged around the ladies’ room until I started to get off and it was time to report in. At the same time I entered the atrium and started to walk toward the ballroom, a man came thru the ballroom doors and started walking toward the men’s room behind me.
Under the influence, the atrium was distorted and seemed immense. It started to feel like I’d been walking across that terracotta tiled floor my entire life. And the one focal point of that endless progress was the man coming toward me. He swaggered—languidly. His arms and legs moved with a loose grace. His hair was dark, hanging to his shoulders and then flipping up and out. He had a full, thick beard as dark as his hair, was wearing black cowboy boots, black leather pants, a denim shirt open to the navel, and a brown suede jacket. I thought he was definitely a studly dude but a bit too overt to be my type.
As we sailed closer I noted the sensual pout of his lips, the delicacy of his cheekbones and depth of his eyes. There was a medieval quality to him, a resemblance to Michaelangelo’s David.
As the distance between us closed, we locked eyes, literally. I glanced into his eyes and could not look away. Those thin blue rims accented the dilated black holes that threatened to suck my consciousness down into an alternate universe. The guy was clearly as high as I was.
When we arrived less than three feet apart, he broke the spell by speaking. “You my kind,” was all he said.
My knees buckled under the full force of his sexual magnetism but I kept walking and like ships in the night we passed each other, gliding to our respective destinations. By the time I entered the ballroom, it hit me: That was Jim Morrison! Ye Gods!
This was confirmed immediately by the other bimbos gathered behind the stage. Giggling like schoolgirls, they chirped, “Isn’t he gorgeous?” and “I wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of by him?” Etc. He was there because a film about him—“A Feast of Friends—had been nominated for an award.
There were five of us and we lined up at the foot of the steps to the stage. Like a kind of relay race, we were each, in turn, handed a plaque and climbed the steps to the stage, crossed to its center, handed the winner their award and led them off the other side of the stage. On that side, we stood for a moment to have a photo taken with the winner then walked around behind the stage and took our place at the end of the line, moving forward till our next circuit up, over, down, camera-flash, and back around.
I had been right about the boredom factor. But I was in a lovely trance watching multicolored fireflies buzzing in the darkness off-stage and when I had my moments on center stage I had a good vantage point in which to view Morrison’s increasingly out-of-control behavior.
It appeared that he and his entourage had been given a central table in the banquet style proceedings. Even if they had not been the center of attention, Morrison would have commanded it by repeatedly bursting forth with obscenities and drunken belches. At one point, while I waited patiently for the award winner in the Best Film Editing category to finish thanking all of his relatives and friends, Morrison was shaking up champagne bottles and spraying their contents on those unfortunate enough to have been granted a table near his. I thought what an asshole.
And so I glided through repeated circuits, up, over, and down, flash and around until the next category was Short Documentary and the plaque put in my hands read, “Jim Morrison. Feast of Friends.”
I thought this is Kismet and shrugged. My mind was floating like a balloon above my head, connected only by a slender thread. My body was like a robot on autopilot as I climbed the steps, took my position center-stage, and the MC announced the winner.
What happened next has been chronicled by more than one of Morrison’s biographers, one of whom described me as “devastatingly cute.” Morrison climbed atop his banquet table and jumped to the next table in front of his, knocking over glasses which spilled their contents into the laps of people who jumped up, shouting in outrage. From there, he then leapt up onto the stage like a tripped-out Errol Flynn in a pirate movie.
Paying no heed to the plaque in my hands, he grabbed me and proceeded to thank the festival for giving him such a great award. Slurring words and barely coherent, he still made it clear he considered me to be his award!
I can’t remember his actual words; I was in a disassociated state of shock. He French-kissed me wantonly and tongued my face like a Saint Bernard reviving a ski accident victim. He dropped his room key between my breasts and huffed alcohol fumes in my face saying, “See ya’ later, babe.”
The audience rioted. Dozens of Southern Gentlemen rushed the stage to save me. The thunder of their outraged protests was deafening but—I swear to gawd—one man actually shouted, "Unhand that woman!"
It took the MC and two other men to hustle Morrison off the stage with me still in his clutches. I don't remember going down the steps or the flash of the camera. Weeks later, I got a copy of the photo that was taken and it was a close contest between which of us had the most dilated pupils—Morrison’s or mine. Unfortunately, years later I gave this photo to a friend who kept an actual shrine to Morrison. Otherwise, I would insert it here.
Somehow, Morrison was detached from me and, made surly by the separation, roared obscenities. He and his party were forcibly removed from the banquet hall. But I didn’t get to witness that. After my rough treatment, I was not required to make another circuit and sat dazed and slack-mouthed until the proceedings broke up.
Released from their duties the other bimbos rushed to my side, gushing about my good fortune. It was unanimously decided that I should, without any reservation, use the room key for its intended purpose.
I wasn’t a virgin but I wasn’t quite a whore either. Back in the ladies’ room, I changed into my street clothes, removed my stage make-up and thought about it long and hard. Hell, I wasn’t even a Doors’ fan. There was no denying the man’s sex appeal but he was an ill-mannered, uncouth jerk. I decided I ought to return it to him just to see what would happen. His grossness could all be an act to promote his Lounge Lizard persona. Privately, he might be a reasonable, likable guy.
Down the hallway outside his door, a line of women waited . One of them snarled, “Get to the back of the line, sister.”
Giggling, I replied, “He gave me his room key.”
They stood aside in awe as I used it. Hearing the key in his lock and the door opening, he called out, “What took you so long?”
It was a standard sized hotel room, not a suite, nothing fancy. Inside there was a bathroom on the right so I had to step inside the room a few paces to see him sprawled, naked, across the bed. The door swung shut behind me.
“Hey, baby, come ’ere,” his head rolled back so he looked up at me upside down and he raised a limp arm in a come-hither gesture. I stepped around the edges of the bed, keeping my distance and lamely said, "I thought I’d return your key.”
“Well, sure," he tried to raise himself up on one elbow and failed, “I been waitin’ for you. Come here.”
"I’m not sure I want to,” I replied a little primly as I sat down on the chair by the window. Then my body suddenly decided it was in no hurry to go; I felt light-headed and dizzy. He had a great body, let no one tell you otherwise. Pale as a marble statue, he was stroking his limp penis without noticeable effect.
“Come here and help me with this," he said with a catch in his voice that seemed at once petulant and pitiful. I was not experienced enough to recognize that he was too drunk and drugged to perform. At my age I’d never met a limp dick and had no idea what was supposed to be done about it.
As if reading my mind, he instructed, “Come here and suck it, baby, please, ple-e-e-ze, o please baby, come and suck my cock.” He was turning his words into a song that could never be played on radio. “All I need is a little help and I’ll pay you back.”
I slid from the chair to the side of the bed and put my hand around his cock, replicating his motions. He seemed harmless enough and genuinely pathetic. I wanted to help him and thought getting fucked by a notorious sex symbol would make a good story.
“Help me, baby, put your mouth around me,” he pleaded, that distressed catch in his voice again. And I went down on him.
For the next two hours he gave me graphic instructions on how to do a blowjob. I made smacking and slurping noises, went fast then slow, deep down till it made me gag then slowly pulled up to the tip and flicked it with my tongue, lapped down the side then up the length of him like a big popsicle, like an ice cream cone. But he never got one bit harder than when I’d started and my jaw started aching.
At first his words were gentle, instructing, guiding, but they became insistent and domineering as though I could give him the starch he needed if I wanted to but was holding back. The plaintive crooning turned to frustrated irritation then vicious anger.
Alarmed, I sat up straight and spat, “Hey man, I’m not some fag hag. What’s wrong with you?”
He was too weak to even be angry. “Go on then, go on. Send in the next one. It’s been grand, good-bye, good-bye.”
After I opened the door, the next girl in line pushed past me. I kept my head down & my jaw clenched as I walked to the elevator. I felt ashamed—mortified by my failure.
A short anxious man walked beside me to the elevator. He softly asked, “How’d he do? Did you get a rise or what?”
“I beg your pardon,” I arched an indignant eyebrow, “Who are you?”
He said he was Morrison's personal manager, “concerned about Jim”, and went on in a tumble of words about it not being “my fault”, which I appreciated. “Jim’s on medication. He’s been having, um, difficulties.”
“O wow,” I said as I got on the elevator, “I feel sorry for him. What a bummer, being a famous sex symbol with a limp dick, how ironic. It’s like finding out Marilyn Monroe was frigid.”
The little man used his back to keep the elevator doors open & pleaded, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Are you kidding?” I feebly chuckled, “I live at home and my parents still believe I’m a virgin. What am I gonna do? Call National Enquirer and tell the world I’m a whore? Relax, dude. ”
He breathed out, “Thank you,” in relief and let the doors shut.
Over the passing decades when I was drunk enough, I entertained parties with this story and got delighted laughter. But, my friend with the Morrison shrine burst into tears of pity for his fallen idol. Other Doors' fans have reacted with disbelief and even anger. Like, how dare I tarnish their Sex God's reputation? Younger feminists have chided me for feeling ashamed and made me explain how young women in the South used to be programmed to serve men back in the Mid-20th Century. Now in the twilight of my life, this story no longer feels funny. I feel sorry for Jim...and my younger self.
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bottomlouisficfest · 3 years
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We hope you’ve enjoyed the ninth week of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Every weekend, we’re compiling all of the fics from that week into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!
You and I 'till the day we die
A fic by Allmylovelarrie on AO3 | flightlesslarri on Twitter
10k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)
Give So Much (Not Enough)
A fic by skinsuk on AO3 | @wifeylouis on Tumblr
24k | Mature | Louis/Harry, Louis/Alex, Harry/Tess | Tumblr post | Twitter post
“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”
He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?
“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”
Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”
  A friends to lovers au with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.
New York's Beauty
A fic by nocontrol_lou on AO3 | @saxophone17 on Tumblr | nocontrol_louis on Twitter
5k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love. Louis needs to feel comfortable with the camera so Harry fucks him until he is blushing and calm and gentle.
feeling borrowed, always blue
A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter
67k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Louis’ own heartbeat picks up, eyes widening right as Dr. Zoyansky hits a button and the unsteady pattern of thumps echoes into the room. His breathing hitches, eyes watering as the rhythm seeps into his insides and reverberates in his mind. A heartbeat.
He doesn’t register the tears at first, eyes fixed to the screen and vision blurring.
The situation seems insane. Here he is, twenty-four years old, sitting in the examination chair and listening to the heartbeat of his future child, clutching the worn material of his changing gown with pale fingers, one of which is weighed down by a gaudy engagement ring.
And most noticeably - he’s entirely alone. It’s just him in the room with his doctor, experiencing one of the most groundbreaking, life-changing moments of his entire life and he’s all alone.
-
Or, Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected that it was going to happen like this.
Hamartia
A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr
66k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Eight years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to struggle the same way.
All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't take long for both of them to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.
moonlit sky over gentle waters
A fic by stardustx on AO3 | stardxstlwt on Twitter
11k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
"The King of the Pirates! Captain Harry Styles! The one who conquered the seven seas!" Louis boasts, sarcasm drips from his tone, mocking him.
The bar is clean, but he still scrubs just as fervently, his brows furrows and a small pout forms on those pink lips Harry desperately wants to kiss. He looks down, dubiously, at the address in his hand.
“Every lass and lad dreams of bedding a pirate like you.” Louis huffs, gazes up at him with a despondant look that reminds him of a grumpy kitten.
Silence fills the space as Harry mulls over his words. He finally looks up at Louis, blinking slowly. “Do they really?”
"You're an idiot."
-
OR Harry left his hometown to sail the seven seas and returns seven years later, yearning for something — or rather, someone — that he isn't sure he can have.
Short and Sweet
A fic by 5ft9 on AO3 | cinnamouroll on Twitter
29k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of  male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered  upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's  immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad  shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.
under thorn and bramble
A fic by thedeathchamber on AO3 | @louehvolution on Tumblr
32k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post
Prompt 445: A historical AU where Louis is working as a servant on a farm. The family that owns the farm is exceedingly cruel to him and he is often exhausted and in pain from his work. A mysterious stranger boards at the farm and is very intrigued by Louis, but Louis doubts his interest in genuine. Any pairing fine.
View the other roundup posts here:
Week #1 Fic Roundup
Week #2 Fic Roundup
Week #3 Fic Roundup
Week #4 Fic Roundup
Week #5 Fic Roundup
Week #6 Fic Roundup
Week #7 Fic Roundup
Week #8 Fic Roundup
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johns-prince · 3 years
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I was reading Norman's biography of Mick Jagger the other day and at some point I realized that good old Mick had it BAD for John. They hung out a lot in the Lost Weekend and Mick seemed heartbroken when May told him John had gone back to Yoko. He was so upset that he talked to the press about it multiple times, whining about not having any access to John and that he was hiding behind Sean. Mick wasn't wrong, though. I was just very entertained by his reaction. Then there is this:
"Mick, as a result, had found himself in the—for him—highly unusual position of wanting to see someone but having his every friendly overture rebuffed.
From his sitting room window, he could see the Gothic rooftops of Lennon’s home, and would sometimes act out the part of a spurned girlfriend: “[John’s] right over there. Does he ever call me? Does he ever go out? No. Changes his phone number about every ten minutes. I’ve given up . . .” But there was no disguising how much this apparent indifference really hurt. Once or twice, he put aside the Tyranny of Cool sufficiently to leave Lennon a note with his own current phone number at the Dakota concierges’ desk, but no response ever came."
LOL "John is right over there. IS HE THINKING OF ME?" The thirst was real, you guys. I don't remember Mick being this sad about any of his women leaving him. Me thinks Johnny hit and quit it but someone fell in love, you see.
I agree, Mick sounds like a jilted lover/girlfriend here who just wants to be at least acknowledged. He was seriously upset about the fact that, when John went back to Yoko he knew that she didn’t like him. She thought he wasn’t worth John’s time and was a bad influence. Gotta remember, Mick and John had been friends since the sixties-- Mick was much closer to John then Paul, even.
Also talk about the gall because she was completely fine with John hanging out with the likes of Klein, Phil Spector, and Magic Alex... Like, talk about bad influences-- Phil fucking pointed a gun at John because he liked to freak John out and upset him. She liked these people. She approved of them for John. Yoko isn’t fully to blame, John also holds blame for how he’d treat people and just cut them off [even if he personally didn’t want too] but she encouraged John to cut ties with family and close, old friends just, like that.  
I feel for Mick. I honestly feel for anyone who loved John, it did seem trying at times. I mean, sometimes it’s not always easy for me to love John just as some crazed groupie... I could only imagine how intense and, confusing and exciting and, memorable it would have been to know him, personally, and get to love him personally. 
I personally don’t think anything serious happened between John and Mick. Kind of like how I believe nothing deeper then just, solid friendship was between John and Stu-- someone he could confide in, who wasn’t just Paul. 
Was there flirting between the two? Absolutely, though I find it to be a partially playful joking sort of flirting between friends, and partially with a serious edge to it. Libra’s are natural flirters, they often to do it unintentionally because it’s just, part of their personality. John most likely both an unintentional and intentional flirt, and his male friends weren’t left out on his teasing’s and naughty, playful behavior [specifically moreso open and direct about it in the 70s] 
But, I do think you’re right that Mick had it bad. Most male friends of John seemed to have it bad for him, in some way or another. Women and men loved John-- he was rather easy to love, despite how he’s painted and the sort of front he put up. As Paul said-- John was a loveable guy, everyone loved him, and he was right [though Paul usually only mentions everyone else when talking about loving John, deflects onto others at the same time but I digress] 
Even men who apparently thought of him a poky bastard seemed to inevitably be drawn to him, and like him [like David Bailey] 
He was loved, so, so much.
“The theory is that when John went off to Spain on holiday with Brian, that’s what it was all about - John trying to get his position clear as the leader of the group. Also, I’m sure Brian was in love with John. We were all in love with John, but Brian was gay so that added an edge.” Paul McCartney - Anthology
PAUL: “Well, I’m sure Brian was in love with John, I’m sure that’s absolutely right. I mean, everyone was in love with John; John was lovable, John was a very lovable guy.” [x]
“What did John Lennon see in me? I think outrageousness and being true to myself and not giving a fuck. We hit it off straight away, even though I was in complete awe of him. He was nothing else but kind to me. I never saw the other side of John, the Harry Nilsson drinking side of John, where he turned on a sixpence. I only saw the gentle, gorgeous side of John, and he was gentle not only to me but my parents, my band members, and I just fell in love with him.”
— Elton John [x]
“Nowhere can the caring side of John Lennon be documented more accurately than in his relationship with Malcolm Evans, the very tall and bespectacled man who became a regular as a road manager, along with Neil Aspinall, on the Beatles’ tours. Evans had a magnetic personality and was a favorite with reporters and the women who tagged along. His smile and charm could be deceptive; he would have done anything to protect the Beatles. At one point on the touring aircraft, while traveling from Jacksonville to Boston in 1964, a tired Mal Evans sat next to me in the rear of the aircraft with tears trickling down his face. I asked, “What’s the matter?” Mal answered, “John got kind of cross with me … just said I should go f— off. No reason, ya’ know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” I never learned what the dispute was about, but I do know that a few minutes later, a sullen Lennon walked by and embraced Evans.” — Larry Kane [x]
“Sharing a twisted sense of humour and a penchant for mischief, Nilsson and Lennon were natural buddies. It was perhaps inevitable that the LA-dwelling singer would gravitate towards Lennon. Lennon clearly appreciated Nilsson’s edginess and was very likely looking for a male soulmate to fill the hole left by McCartney. For his part, Nilsson’s feelings for Lennon ran even deeper: ‘I really fell in love with him. He was all those things you wanted somebody to be.”
Man On The Run: Paul McCartney in the 1970s by Tom Doyle [x]
“But the acerbic John is the one we know and love, you know, because he was clever with it, so it was very attractive. But, for me, I have more than a slight affection for the John that I knew then, when we were first writing songs, when we would try and do things the old songwriters had done. I slightly regret the way John’s image has formed, and because he died so tragically it has become set in concrete. The acerbic side was there but it was only part of him. He was also such a sweet, lovely man – a really sweet guy. ””
— Paul McCartney, discussing John Lennon [x]
John was a charming man in his own right, charismatic, and funny. Having a good sense of humor is always attractive, and draws people to you. As Paul says, and Elton, John was kind, he was sweet and friendly. He wasn’t always this, Mr. Tough and aggressive, ripping into people with his sharp tongue. He was gentle, he could be gentle, in his own way. Warm, and loving. 
He had this ability to just... make you feel like you’ve known him longer then you actually have. Like you have some sort of, special relationship or connection with him-- that you were the only one who was close enough to see underneath his armor, to know him as intimately as anyone else ever could. 
Course, this was simply how many felt and wanted to be the reality[specifically men], when it wasn’t, not exactly. They didn't really know the real John, they didn't get to see him at his most sincere, when his beautiful armor was chipped away and he was standing naked and scared. He described himself like a chameleon when it came to social settings, when interacting with different individuals [friends], which honestly makes sense as a Libra [Gemini’s are just as guilty of this] 
They got to know a facet of John... Maybe they did get a glimpse of John here and there, but it’s just reality that John didn’t just, open up so easily to people like that. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and he had a habit of testing people’s loyalty and love for him [whether it had been consciously or not, I’m not always sure] because of the insecurities and doubt that one day, they’d turn on him or abandon him. 
Again, he had this way in making people [other men] feel as if they had an intimate and special connection with him. And maybe they did to varying degrees. John had a way to act open with others, without actually being open and vulnerable, or at least not fully. I’m not sure if I’m making sense lol
Only ones who I think ever got to know the real John, were Mimi(of course she raised him), Pete (friends since they were just peanuts), Cynthia somewhat, May got glimpses and wanted John to be himself and independent... Yoko to a degree (though she focuses on entirely pushing and talking about Brand John Lennon™)  
And who I know for a fact did, and does know John the most intimately, deeply, unabashedly, is Paul.
But anyway, speaking of being so very attractive, John was attractive. Like, many women and men found him exceedingly attractive, like this one male photographer who believed John was the most handsome out of the band;
“I think John was the best looking, actually. The refined nose.  He never went out of his way to be a disagreeable person.  He would be the one to go over and just sit and sign some little girl’s book...” 
Harry Benson, photographer who took the photo of the iconic pillow fight and other well known Beatle photos, talks about John. [x]
Then we have David Bailey, who described Paul, Ringo, and George as rather pleasant-- while describing John as being a fucker, a bit poky. 
And yet, it was John who David Bailey claimed to like, out of all of them. 
“I didn’t like the Beatles – I liked John ... John was a fucker. Paul was always the nicest guy in the world. George, he always seemed full of angst. Ringo always seemed Mr Nice Guy. But John was a bit poky; I liked him.” 
-- David Bailey Originally; published in the March 2014 issue of British GO magazine.
That’s honestly the only parts of the interview worth reading, Bailey is sort of a dickhead and clearly seems biased against Paul, and just The Beatles as a band in general, so [which is fascinating. Considering he might’ve been peeved towards Paul ever since John brought his partner along for that photoshoot because he didn’t want to go in alone lol]
Mick did love John, though in what way or in what varying degree, is up for discussion and personal conclusion. Just like how it’s up to interpretation and discussion how much and in what way David Bowie, Elton John, Harry Nilsson, Mal Evans, Billy Preston, and Brian Epstein loved John. 
But it’s clear as day that, in my opinion, they almost all seemed to have some sort of man-crush on him. A serious admiration. Harry Nilsson sounded like he was in a bro-mance with John [or at least he wanted to be in one with him]
Course we can’t forget Paul, but we all know that Paul loved John in such varying degrees, it’s truly impossible to label it. They’re soulmates, can’t really categorize the love between soulmates so easily. 
Anyway, point of this all; Mick definitely had it bad for John, but then again who didn’t? 
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Text
Edie & Liam
aleeunayzhun: anyone else think the ‘monster’ addition was totally unnecessary and has taken away from what was a mildly intriguing ARG concept beforehand?
aleeunayzhun: 🙄 back on the trail for a new rabbithole to fall down
level26: Yeah, axed it for me
aleeunayzhun: the paranormal route can be alright if it’s done right but usually it ain’t and then it’s a cop-out, PM definitely didn’t think where they were going with this
aleeunayzhun: the ones that rely on the real world but twist it are always scarier to me, no one ever has the balls to stick with it, to not throw in some bullshit ghost jumpscares to get the idiots with
level26: creepypasta is where it ends up with barely no exceptions
aleeunayzhun: mhmm
aleeunayzhun: and no one has shanked their mate over anything on there in time
level26: got a few I’ll volunteer if the next 🐇 is more of this or promo again
aleeunayzhun: If one more shitty band thinks throwing out some binary or morse code makes them any less shit, I’ll join you
level26: dednah tfel neve t'nia ylbaborp yeht
aleeunayzhun: imij erew yeht hsiw yeht
level26: 👅💔🍆💔🎸💔
aleeunayzhun: 💔 they reckon hot groupies hang about on reddit
level26: trolls are their groupies, they can only be fuelled by edgy r/hate 🤘
aleeunayzhun: awh, r/hate is only a degree away from r/love after-all
level26: just like that, a plotline that’d be less crap than [whatever this ARG we’re slagging off is called]
aleeunayzhun: not gonna start my annoying beg promo in here quite yet but how hard was that, really
level26: us both being spam bots is still a better twist than the monster did it
aleeunayzhun: Привет, дорогая, хочешь увидеть мои сексуальные фотки? Hажмите ссылку СЕЙЧАС! [‘Hello dear, do you want to see my sexy pictures? Click the link NOW!’ And a link to god knows what lmao]
level26: NO soundcloud rapper link?! 💀 what an r/cockblock
aleeunayzhun: how’d you guess 😏
level26: my paranormal powers kicked in, clicking that link must’ve leveled me up
aleeunayzhun: advert for communism? 🤔🤫
level26: find me and my sick beats on r/motherrussia
aleeunayzhun: MK Ultra is definitely taken by about 1000 other shit DJs
aleeunayzhun: and is the poorly executed plot of several other ARGs I’ve also given up on
level26: KM Extra is my personal fave shit DJ, really doing something
aleeunayzhun: the fact I genuinely know who that is 😷😷
level26: I noclipped into his set at [somewhere she would have heard of even if she’s not been] talk about an eldritch location
aleeunayzhun: you must’ve felt like the only player in a crowd of NPCs 🧟‍♀️🧠💀🧟‍♂
level26: close enough to the review I would’ve left
aleeunayzhun: I’ll leave it
aleeunayzhun: I know the coordinates
level26: I’ll 👀 out for it
level26: you on moscow standard time or one of the other 10?
aleeunayzhun: I’m the Russian spy, I hack you, comrade
level26: ❤️ tôi cũng cam kết với chính nghĩa cộng sản ❤️ [with some link to the Communist Party of Vietnam because we’re saying we’re as committed to communism]
aleeunayzhun: [links to the Communist Party of Ireland to be like obvs we have both worked out we’re actually from here
level26: cracked the code, like, full props to KM Extra
aleeunayzhun: Only in Dubo would that shit fly
level26: they’d eat his head off outside the pale, yeah, galway’d be having none of it
aleeunayzhun: what they got but a bunch of rocks though
level26: easy pick for the murder weapon
aleeunayzhun: you’d never get far enough in the guinness factory to drown someone in a vat 💔
level26: could do if you got a job as manager and closed for essential maintenance
aleeunayzhun: 💡
aleeunayzhun: won’t do no harm to the taste
level26: iron boost if he’s bleeding heavily when he goes in
aleeunayzhun: delicious and nutritious
level26: ARG coming soon from guinness
aleeunayzhun: bastards better give credit
level26: they can have it, we’re not short of ideas
aleeunayzhun: and you ain’t heard nothing yet
aleeunayzhun: not making it that easy for the wannabe PMs with none of their own
aleeunayzhun: 🔐the real ones
level26: fair play, given enough freebies out in this thread
aleeunayzhun: 🤐
aleeunayzhun: [later on though definitely some way to contact her privately but in a way that you’ve got to work it out of course]
level26: [at least then we can switch to y’all’s names ‘cause I can’t think of a username for the life of me lol]
Edie: [You can add it later and change it, it’s fine lol]
Liam: 🔓
Edie: 1 🔑 for 1 💎
Edie: Suitably impressed
Liam: if I knew anywhere that loaded a 💎 into the gun I’d be off but what’s impressive about a swollen and green ear
Edie: Impressive, no; but good footage for the game? Absolutely
Liam: I’d do it here to have time to mess about with all the lighting and angles
Edie: you’re 🎥
Edie: not enough have actual artistic merit so fair play
Liam: but thinking about it, recording the conveyor belt of a trainee stabbing holes in screaming babies ears all day could have some merit to it, maybe I should get myself up
Edie: you can buy anything and everything from bezos
Edie: live your dreams
Liam: putting my dreams on tape would be worse than the monster reveal
Liam: cheapest jumpscares and effects
Edie: not to mention outing yourself to the whole thread, not just me
Liam: how many teachers would crawl out the woodwork if there was a mass reveal
Edie: to offer you the school’s stellar mental health services
Edie: the one nurse phoning it in
Liam: find my dad lurking on the thread too, that’d be a trip
Edie: unexpectedly wholesome
Edie: I’ll start hiding caches where my dad hides his stashes
Edie: unintentional rhyme
Liam: bars 🎼
Edie: @ KM Extra
Liam: Fachtna to his ma who thinks he’s a saint
Edie: Oof
Edie: ARG concept no. ? the horror of the Irish language
Liam: my ma would be 😱 if I went and hugged her for not doing me that wrong
Edie: not the audience we aim to 😱 really
Liam: too easy
Edie: almost as easy as your name to spell and say
Edie: you even from here 👽
Liam: wouldn’t take enough working out to set you as a test, records are basically lying about
Edie: nothing relating to school is a challenge
Liam: just getting that nurse to give a shit
Edie: if she reckons she’s 👀 it all…
Liam: front row of our intended audience
Edie: splash zone
Liam: she’s never off her phone, spy like you won’t have no problem hacking it
Edie: her nudes = actual monstrosity
Liam: dunno what Mr Doyle sees in her
Edie: yeah, he’s such a looker himself, like
Liam: his wife used to be pretty fit
Edie: don’t matter when she explains how and why people cheat
Edie: psychobabble gets ‘em off every time
Liam: if they taught psychology nobody’d be off each other or learning anything then
Edie: sounds like any other standard schoolday
Liam: that's what they’re getting up to in your class, is it
Edie: as cliche as the monster, yeah
Liam: 🔥🏫
Edie: hear hear
Edie: got to make the endless fire drills worth it one day
Liam: can’t miss me standing in line or not
Edie: then I won’t
Liam: next false alarm I pull
Edie: + 💎
Liam: + 👀
Liam: dont have to hate every cliche
Edie: not the good ones
Edie: all about how you use or misuse them
Liam: can you overuse eye contact
Edie: I can
Liam: I can make a kubrick stare work however many takes you wanna do
Edie: you don’t think I’m a one-take 🌟
Liam: I’ve not shot you
Edie: 🤯🔫
Liam: I’m not a one-take 📷📹
Edie: is that a brag for not suffering from premature ejaculation?
Liam: do you need that reassurance
Edie: I don’t know
Liam: I’ll think about other unsexy shit if your eyes start getting to me too much
Edie: Ha, yeah right
Edie: just don’t think about the 🔥
Liam: 🚒 buzzkill
Edie: 🚓 cockblock
Liam: 🚑 scene stealers
Edie: 🛸 out of here
Liam: before you can get stuck there as a 👻
Edie: Purgatory is preferable to that place forever
Liam: stay alive and it’s simple to get out of 🏫
Edie: I’ll leave my bag behind
Edie: 1st rule and only, really
Liam: don’t really need a pile of textbooks
Edie: I doubt that’s what you carry
Edie: I know I don’t
Liam: I can get more of what I do and I bet you could too
Edie: Bars
Liam: 😏
Edie: You’ve promo’d him a lot if you ain’t him
Edie: KM, like
Edie: bit sus
Liam: you said you know who he is, you know I ain’t
Liam: maybe I love him or some gay shit
Edie: none of his tracks sound like love songs
Liam: guess he don’t love me back
Edie: Oh honey
Edie: lock him in when you set the fire
Liam: he can keep spitting out those fuck yous til the end
Edie: dedication ✊
Liam: and +++ for morale
Edie: what a lad
Liam: love triangle is a cliche too far, take a deep breath or something
Edie: bit possessive
Liam: directors are dicks
Edie: and the heartbroken
Liam: yeah, couldn’t be kind to you if I wanted
Edie: I’ll survive
Edie: you’ve given me the heads up, I’ll give you the 👀
Liam: respect killing me with your 👀 and taking him for yourself
Edie: who could blame me
Liam: my ma as I’m dead, like
Edie: true
Edie: i’ll avoid her at the tescos
Liam: 🛒 dash
Edie: got a selection of my own
Edie: [picture because the random crap you would have in the barns lmao]
Liam: [a picture of one he stole at some point that’s on fire or been blown up or whatever]
Edie: 👏
Edie: what else can we 💥
Liam: got any barns you don’t use
Liam: or 🚜 stuff
Edie: loads
Edie: if you’re lucky, I’ll leave another 🔑
Liam: got another ear to put a 💎 in, luck’s gonna run out beyond it
Edie: sounds like some gay shit, you should
Liam: 👌
Liam: [pics when we’ve done this because of course we have, casually raiding either your mother or sister’s jewellery stashes here like]
Edie: Oh
Edie: actually looks kinda sick
Edie: you’re welcome then
Liam: I’ll send the footage when I’ve edited it
Edie: I look forward to it
Edie: I can’t give you any clues
Liam: what makes you think I need em
Edie: [idk how to differentiate but clearly the clue to where you live needs to be much harder to find and then decode lmao]
Liam: [awkward when he blatantly already knows where you live]
Edie: [do not even need to do the work, whoops]
Liam: [convincingly pretend you are though please]
Edie: [thank god he’s not a murderer even if he is a stalker, just giving out this info willynilly]
Liam: [not your stalker, it’s FINE]
Edie: [oh dear oh dear]
Edie: I’ll know when you work it out
Liam: yeah, I’ll show up 📷📹🌾
Liam: or send a 📦💣 if you wanna take things slow
Edie: you decide
Edie: I’ll shake all the packages extra hard
Liam: cancel the real 🐇 I thought about
Edie: animal cruelty is lamer than bed wetting
Liam: never even tipped a 🐄
Edie: they’ll appreciate it
Edie: anyway, if you did, punishment is letting them kick you in the face so you lose in the end
Liam: head injury’s a win if I get caught for the 🔥🏫 or being seen staring in your window
Edie: 😍🤤 just serial killer things
Liam: pretend I didn’t say KM’s gonna be my 1st victim
Edie: I’ll never feel special otherwise
Liam: you don’t feel special knowing I cracked your code
Edie: if anything, it makes you look smart and me not smart enough
Liam: you’re smart enough that I wanted to
Edie: I’m not going to ruin it with a cliche jumpscare now
Liam: me either, you’re smart enough too to see me coming
Edie: and you’re tall, so I hear
Liam: dunno where from, my dad’s not
Edie: he’s definitely your dad?
Edie: I may as well accuse your ma because I’m already avoiding her for the whole killing you thing
Liam: don't act like it which probably means he is
Edie: ha, real talk
Edie: I think you might be taller than mine
Edie: he’s 6’2
Liam: ha, I am
Edie: you’re the tallest person in school, possibly town
Edie: definite 👽
Liam: taking their time parking the ufo and picking me up, typical dad
Edie: did they forget ET or leave him here on purpose
Edie: he was fucking annoying
Liam: if I looked that much like a ballsack I’d understand
Edie: 😂
Edie: least you’d get to get fucked up with baby Drew Barrymore
Liam: baileys on cereal does taste sick, always down for that
Edie: yum
Edie: what do your fingers look like
Liam: [a video of his hands from lots of angles like hello]
Edie: hot
Edie: you can call me Elliot
Liam: or just call you instead of home
Edie: 😎 so smooth
Liam: what’s my ma gonna say, get back, talking to you is smarter
Edie: I’ve got time to set up the voice distorter so you’re not disappointed by the lack of crEEEEeeeEPpPPpyyyyYy vibes
Liam: and I’ll have loads of time to hear how you sound without it when I stake your house out
Edie: I’ll be sure to be loud
Edie: and not chat total inane shit with my family
Liam: you got your own room
Edie: technically not
Edie: but there are other rooms and places to crash in, when I wanna be alone
Liam: there’s my excuse to zoom in creeEEPpILY close 👀 when you’re not
Edie: very awkward and even ruder if you confused me for my sister
Edie: no one’s done that for ages
Liam: how were they ever doing it
Edie: we’re both the white ones, they just didn’t know which was which
Liam: can’t be a hard code to crack, not gonna be confusing you for anyone
Edie: good
Edie: it was pretty annoying
Edie: and I’m already your second victim as it is
Liam: partner in crime, or groupie to mine if you’re not getting actively involved, but still standing at the end
Edie: hope you’re writing some of these down
Edie: ‘cos I’m not gonna be your groupie
Edie: got my own scores to settle, own havoc to wreak
Liam: don’t need to write down I don’t want you to die, I’ll remember
Edie: it rhymed though
Edie: I’ll steal your lines then
Liam: write as many songs about me as you want, be your groupie til I get 🛸✌️
Edie: [send your music links because you ain’t]
Edie: give me a sec to do yours but pretend any of these are about you
Liam: this is you
Liam: serious
Edie: yeah
Edie: if I was gonna lie I’d have done that a few steps ago
Liam: I’m gonna lie they’re all about me
Edie: that’s what serious meant
Liam: it meant I’m impressed and you’re downplaying how smart you are
Edie: you can be my hypeman and overplay it
Liam: [does by uploading this edited ear piercing escapade with whatever song of hers we like and fits the vibe playing in it, giving her credit because we’re not a heathen and also putting on his stories that he’s listening to these tracks and hyping them how you can]
Edie: [so 😍 over this but trying to be chill somehow and somewhat even though we’re extra af anyway]
Edie: maybe I do wanna be your groupie
Edie: what do you want from me
Edie: like, I owe you and I want to give you something too, ‘cos
Edie: talking to you IS interesting
Edie: and not just because I could be talking to my ma or someone else really boring instead just ‘cos you are
Liam: [for real though her views would definitely go up cos the vibe is he knows loads of people through his sister but also through his weird vids and the raves and stuff he goes to now too so]
Liam: all I want’s to keep talking to you, for as long as you’re into it
Liam: people don’t unless we’re off our faces, like
Edie: my notifications are popping off rn
Edie: I know what you mean though, everyone’s too scared to say or do anything when they don’t have something to blame it on, like being stupid or weird or whatever the fuck actually matters
Edie: more than being bored and alone
Liam: dunno what they’re more scared of, what they wanna ask or how I’m gonna answer, least I know what the topic’ll be
Liam: every convo I have is a loop
Edie: all anyone ever cares about and knows is the headlines
Edie: as if there aren’t countless hours minutes seconds before and after the big events they all 👀 and 👂
Liam: work out sweet for you as a headliner
Edie: Getting them to talk about what I’m doing instead of whatever my parents and the rest of the fucking fam did or do is the goal
Liam: with me hyping you up, no bother, keep knocking out hits and I’ll promo em with no trace of binary or morse code
Edie: and you make films
Edie: I wasn’t sure if you were pissing about at first
Edie: every other person in that thread is an aspiring filmmaker so
Liam: did put me off for a while
Edie: Yours aren’t going to be bad Blair Witch ripoffs though
Edie: I can say that much without seeing
Edie: even the stuff you’ve sent today is dope
Liam: do you wanna see
Edie: yes
Liam: [link her cos I doubt all the weird shit is just there chilling on your insta or whatever]
Edie: [just casually watching all of this nbd]
Liam: siht ekil kool annog weiver ruoy
Liam: или, может быть, это
Edie: hoặc tôi có thể làm như thế này [‘or I could do it like this’]
Edie: si ffuts ruoy kniht i looc woh edih annaw tnod i tub
Liam: ba mhó an spraoi é a cheilt agus a lorg go pearsanta [hide and seek would be more fun in person]
Edie: If you’ve worked out where I live like you say
Edie: be fair and count to 100
Liam: you reckon you made it that easy do you
Liam: be cool if you added some 00s to that and gave me a fair chance
Edie: no, you could still be anyone
Liam: someone to be scared of, yeah I probably am
Edie: Do you want me to be scared of you
Liam: nah
Edie: Good because I’m not and I never promised I was a 🌟 so
Liam: 🤩 with or without promises
Edie: How have I never spoke to you before
Edie: so weird
Liam: I wouldn’t have known what to say to a girl like you
Edie: You seem like you’re coping fine to me
Liam: from behind a keyboard I can cope with anything
Edie: You’re not afraid of me either
Liam: not yet
Edie: What do you think I’m like?
Liam: smart, creative, nice to talk to and look at
Edie: then you’ve got nothing to be afraid of
Liam: I’ve got nothing, that’s bang on
Edie: I’m not trying to take anything from you
Edie: but I could throw those compliments back to you x 10000
Liam: you don’t like possessive, I ain’t gonna tell you what to do
Edie: I didn’t say that
Edie: you could claim better than a soundcloud DJ though
Liam: been waiting to hear that compliment specifically
Edie: 😏
Edie: You look like you’d be a fuckboy
Edie: that’s what I thought
Edie: you’re that good-looking
Liam: if I was the game’d be making you think I wasn’t, which is kinda where we are
Edie: True
Edie: so I’m that dumb or you’re that good, what are we going for?
Liam: you’re smart enough to play dumb, I don’t think I can aim for god tier puppet mastery of anyone’s emotions
Edie: I can see the appeal of that
Edie: closing you eyes to thing you don’t wanna see, to see the things you do
Edie: but mine are wide open
Liam: I ain’t mad, there’d be no appeal to yours being closed, unless you drop bars in your sleep too
Edie: you’re gonna find which window is mine and find out, yeah
Liam: wake you up before you name drop KM as it’s MY thing
Edie: that’s your man, I can respect it
Liam: exclusivity is a + for you then, I’m taking notes
Edie: I don’t really know
Edie: everyone’s lame
Liam: I’ve been there, yeah
Edie: I can’t fake enthusiasm for the sake of it
Liam: it’s a shite idea, doable or not
Edie: I don’t intend to
Edie: 🤞
Liam: can’t think why you’d have to
Edie: I won’t make you promise
Liam: what’ll you make me do
Edie: I want you to show
Edie: and be real and not just go ghost after this
Edie: but I don’t know if you will and I know you might
Liam: be a short afterlife, we don’t get american summers
Edie: we both got the capabilities, but I can promise not to stalk you if you like
Edie: if you want to stick to usernames and anonymity
Liam: not working out where you are to prove I can and a face in the window haunting wouldn’t even impress any dads lurking on the thread
Edie: Alright but I’d be more inclined to keep a secret if you asked opposed to all the dads
Liam: I wouldn’t wanna keep anything we do secret
Edie: Yeah?
Liam: if this is a scam I’m falling for everyone’ll see why and if it’s not I’m gonna document everything
Edie: I won’t ask for your credit card details even once
Edie: This is… different
Edie: isn’t it
Liam: you can have my ma’s, you’re avoiding her and the big tescos
Liam: I don’t know what this is, I wasn’t expecting you at the end of any of those links
Edie: It IS the least she could do
Edie: If I had a guess, you weren’t it
Edie: Even though you mentioned Dubo, it isn’t that small of a town
Liam: ha, how livid you’d be if I was another american coming here for the culture
Edie: not close enough to st patrick’s that I was worried
Liam: how did you feel
Edie: I thought no way it was you at first
Edie: and then I couldn’t believe it was you
Edie: and then that I should’ve known you sooner
Edie: what about you?
Liam: I still can’t believe it’s you, I would’ve tried to chat to you sooner if I knew this is how it’d go
Edie: I’m glad we are now
Edie: and I’ve not fucked it up
Liam: if the small world’s not fucked it up, you won’t
Edie: like you said, be shit if you were in America
Liam: be crap if you were anyone else from school, like you said
Edie: If it was anyone else from school
Edie: this convo would be well over by now
Liam: it’s the longest I’ve had for years
Edie: It’s all so surface level, right
Edie: fuck that
Edie: I wanna know more about you, I don’t care if I shouldn’t just say that
Liam: what do you wanna know
Edie: Hmm
Edie: Do I only get the one question?
Edie: Because I’ll think more carefully if so
Liam: nah, there’s no limit on it
Edie: Cool
Edie: so how was your day, and what were you doing just before you went on the forum?
Liam: [send her a video of some rave or whatever you were at because it’s summer bitches]
Liam: + 3-4 hours sleeping
Edie: Lucky
Edie: where’d you sleep and where’s the weirdest place you’ve got + 3-4 hours sleep before?
Liam: [send her some of the blooper-esque stuff you cut out to make it look more fun than it is, cos we know you’re usually bored]
Liam: home, I can’t 💤 in random xD places but I could call your dad short and maybe have him in a fight
Edie: that’s hot
Edie: he could’ve been there and you coulda tested that theory
Edie: but I wanna be there when you do
Liam: you’d have a shite view from the stage with lights blinding you, can’t let on how talented you are while we’re there
Edie: 😶
Edie: he’s not old so it’s not on a par with animal abuse lameness
Liam: and if I get carried away you can stop me
Edie: can I
Edie: + skill points
Liam: 🎶 works on monsters
Edie: have to find a way to get you home before the 💤 hits
Edie: so cute 🥺
Liam: mine or yours
Edie: 😳
Edie: I’ll protect you while you sleep, see if you can at mine
Liam: I can’t if you’re 👀
Edie: that might be a problem
Liam: how long can you not blink for
Edie: [send a vid of an attempt]
Liam: can I keep this
Edie: ‘course
Edie: use it if you can
Liam: when you write a song about me it’ll need a vid
Edie: I’ve started
Edie: I think by the time you find me, it’ll be done
Liam: people who don’t know you are gonna think I edited your eyes that colour
Edie: hashtag they’re real 😏
Liam: the girl who said she had an operation as a kid’s the real you
Edie: 😂
Edie: they were going rouge and I’ve repressed those memories
Liam: what were you doing before you logged on
Edie: not at a rave, sadly
Edie: I was masterminding a sabotage though, trying to anyway
Liam: don’t leave it there giving me no details
Edie: it isn’t even bad ARG plot worthy
Edie: but my sister has her gross boyfriend over and I need to ruin their fun, obviously, because they are unbearable
Edie: easiest way to do that is make them babysit the twins because there’s nothing fun about 9 year olds
Edie: so I convinced ma to go out on a date, but I still need to get my brother out the way and he’s a massive nerd who never goes anywhere so I’m stumped
Liam: we could have fun with it, gotta be a route to go down that’s not just ripping off the shining again
Liam: a nerd how, he’s on mastermind and his subject is _
Edie: 🪓 is just a prop, honest
Edie: bones, not in a cool way
Edie: History, all that old shit
Liam: [obviously find some kind of obscure af exhibit or book signing or something that he’d potentially be interested in and send her the deets because sleuthing is what you do boy]
Edie: OMG but genuinely
Edie: you are too good at this, I’ll have to keep you around
Liam: stashed with the 🪓
Edie: if you fit
Edie: He’ll actually go to this, for sure
Edie: 🐓🚫
Liam: keep what you figure’s useful and chop off the rest 🧩🧟
Edie: 😋
Edie: what an offer
Edie: and I do need to keep busy so I can’t be asked to step in
Edie: not that I’d say yes
Liam: busy like with a 🧭
Edie: go on
Liam: [god knows what scavenger hunt he’s sending you on gal that he apparently just has ready at the drop of a hat but here we are]
Edie: [live your best nerd lives]
Liam: [really hope these clues aren’t something he was gonna torment your sister with, because no thank you]
Edie: [lmao i hope it wouldn’t translate so easy ‘cos imagine]
Liam: [it definitely wouldn’t but a hardcore blag happening here regardless, I like to think you were actually coming up with this for her while you were pretending to work out her address that you already know]
Edie: [that’s a solid shout ‘cos yeah that is a thing lol]
Edie: [definitely sending you the demo of this song at the end as a prize because we’re beyond 😍 now]
Liam: [likewise even though he’s trying to downplay how 😍 he is to himself rn because it’s so weird that she’s Rio’s sister and that he actually also likes her in her own right so we’re fully !?]
Liam: [nevertheless trying to think of something creepy but cool he could send to her house so she knows he knows where it is and that we think this demo is amazing obviously, maybe it’s lots of other people’s shit musical endeavours like KM that we’ve set on fire and otherwise destroyed in creative ways like you’ve slayed the competition gal since cds and tapes are back baby idk]
Edie: [I wonder if I can find something like that to post hmm to pinterest I go]
Liam: [love the visual of you just sneakily dropping off a massive box of melted plastic without anyone seeing you]
Edie: [you’re clearly good lmao, I was thinking we could do a convo with Billie between this and the next one though]
Liam: [good idea boo, I’m up for that]
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virgil-is-a-cutie · 4 years
Text
Dupont gets to go to Ouran
Dupont gets to be taken taken to Ouran for I'd say 1 semester. Learn with the students. In that time, Mari has been obviously shunned by her class (adrien is up to you), and found her real friends(chloe and Nathaniel?). Lila has her groupies who cling to her words. Mari obviously redesigns the uniform(who seriously made them that way?) Which many of the students like, including the hosts(twins are into fashion so makes sense).
Prince meets the princess. Relationships are made, Mari maybe also becomes the hosts' designer(cheaper for the clubs funding if you think about it) for their special events. The hosts love it. The guests adore it and Mari gets more commisions. Let's just say that our Ladybug may be an unintentional host that the guests just ADORE.
Obviously this causes Mari's class (*cough* Lila *cough*)angry/annoyed/petty, and tries to get her classmates to destroy/ruin the outfits. Forgetting just who exactly attends the school...let's just say that NO ONE is safe from the repercussions of that
Submitted by @bee-wrecker
----
I mean shit yeah you know damn well that Kyoya will absolutely have his fam sue the hell out of Lila and the class.
Renge would love Chloé and Nathaniel
virgil-is-a-cutie
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loubabykitten · 5 years
Text
BEST FICS OF 2018
first of all… happy new year guys!!!
as promised, here are the best fics i read in 2018 (some of them were published before but i discovered them in 2018), there're not in order:
Chasing empty spaces (79k, chaptered) - 1930s au
by @domestic-harry
The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.
Don't want shelter (76k, chaptered) - teacher!louis, businessman!harry
by @fullonlarrie
Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…
When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.
During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.
Save myself (219k, chaptered) - rich!louis, student!harry
by @make-thisfeellikehome
Louis Tomlinson is a train wreck. That is a way of putting it lightly. His whole world is a vast blur of darkness and bad decisions and it doesn't matter how many times he decides he's done, he always falls back in, because darkness is tricky like that for him. Louis wants for nothing—has everything he could ever ask for really, but it's all nothing. Maybe he needs to be rescued—maybe he can't be rescued. No one knows.
Or the one where Louis is a spoiled rich kid who is ignored by his entire family, who's friends only use him as a means for drugs and no one believes he's worth any more than just that. Harry Styles is a first year university student who's just moved to Doncaster for their theatre program who just happens to get the short straw when he's partnered with Louis for Bio Lab. What could go wrong?
Lightning strikes twice (104k, chaptered) - groupie!louis, famous!harry
by @catfishau
Louis slipped his hand onto Harry’s thigh, snaking his fingers up and inwards. “I’m a big fan. You’re so talented, and I have to admit that I actually fancy you a bit.”
“Yeah?” Harry reached up to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “Well, you know, I like to try and be accommodating to my fans.”
“You’re quite well known for that,” Louis whispered as he turned his head some more, their mouths an inch apart. “So I hear.”
---
Rock star Harry Styles was nineteen when he met Louis, a groupie with a huge heart that Harry couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Fate granted him a second chance at the age of sixty, his washed up and lonely existence being transformed by a widower with a bookshop.
Tell me how to feel about you (38k, chaptered) - college/university au
by @imlouisaf
Louis thought it would feel different once he got to LA. He knew it was best for him; a fresh start as far away as he could get. But when the plane touched down and he stepped out into the hot air around LAX, Louis felt exactly the same.
There's still a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; ripped away even after trying for so many years to keep it from happening. He knows it's not all his fault, not by a mile, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself for it all going wrong.
If he'd just stayed strong, if he'd said no when he said yes, maybe everything would be different.
Or, Harry has been trying to convince Louis to date him for years, but Louis has always been wary of Harry’s fairly obvious commitment issues. Louis eventually gives him a chance, opening his heart up to the one thing he fears.
Have faith in me (183k, chaptered) - rich!harry, assistant!louis
As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.
When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting...
This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.
Shake me down (208k chaptered) - college/university au, insecure!harry, protective!louis
by @agreatperhaps12
Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.
Red hands (132k, chaptered)
by @harrytum
“I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them.  
“But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.”
a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.
There are no atheists in foxholes (64k, one shot)
by @suspendrs
“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?” Harry asks after a minute. “London?”
Louis blinks, looking down. They very well could spend the rest of their lives on this island, and they’re both very aware of that. Everyone probably already thinks they’re dead, anyway. Their flats are going to be sold, and their families are going to have funerals, and life is going to go on without them. Even if they do get rescued, it’s already been days. The news of the shipwreck has definitely reached London by now. They don’t know if there’s been any effort to look for survivors, but they also don’t know how far away from the wreck they are, or how far people are going to go to look for them, or if anyone even knows that this island is here and, like, it’s very possible that they’ve already looked and stopped looking for survivors, and no one knows they’re out here-
“I don’t know,” Louis says, before he can start spiraling. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”
Or, the sea takes everything from Louis, but it gives him back more than he ever could’ve asked for.
Dance to the distortion (96k, chaptered)
by @domestic-harry
Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.
Lonely king (40k, chaptered) - broken!louis, indie!harry
When Louis' parents pass away in a car accident, he inherits a cottage in the woods of Scotland. He ends up spending the summer there; unraveling secrets, mending bonds and creating memories with his best friends.
For as long as i can remember (it's been december) (128k, chaptered) - lawyer!louis, chef!harry
After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.
Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.
The road less travelled by (98k, chaptered) - Lumberjack!louis, high school principal!harry
by @freetheankles
Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada.
Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not a secluded one as Niall annoyingly claimed.
Louis certainly didn't need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. His late husband.
A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid.
No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.
Saving symphony hall (124k, chaptered) - symphony hall au, omega!louis, alpha!harry
by @helloamhere
“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”
“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”
“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.
“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”
“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.
“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”
“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”
Shelter as we go (75k, one shot)
by @fondleeds
Louis looks at him like his words might break him, glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces.
“Hey,” Harry breathes, and he knows, meeting Louis’ eyes, that his words could break him easy as anything. He almost wants Louis to bring his boot down.
-
AU. Nova Scotia, 1968.
Walk that mile (149k, chaptered) - road trip au
Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”
“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”
“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.
MY TOP 5:
5. I believe him when he tells of loving me (28k, chaptered)
louis doesn't remember harry. harry takes him home.
4. Wild love (130k, chaptered)
by @daisyharry
“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”
“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.
“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”
Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”
- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.
3. In sickness and in health (83k, chaptered) - american!harry, british!louis
by @rainbowsandlovehl
“Just make sure that you head down to the immigration office as soon as you can, alright?” James reminded them, making them look towards the man and nod in unison. “Remember Louis, you have only two weeks. So make it legal quickly so you don’t get deported.”   “I’ll be sure to remind my assistant to schedule our appointment,” Louis joked and laughed.
A loosely based The Proposal Au where Louis is to be deported in two weeks. Since he doesn't want to lose his job, he asks his assistant, Harry to marry him for a green card. If it makes them realise they're in love, oh well. There's also the fact that no one doubts their credibility.
2. Hush (41k, one shot) - high school au, quarterback!louis, feminine!harry
by @wankerville
“I don't like you like that, Harry.”
“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”
or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.
1. Light my morning sky (54k, one shot) - college/university au
The relatively cliché College AU in which Louis happens to be proficient in Philosophy, Ethics and keeping his distance, while Harry is in need of a tutor to salvage his grade, and never passes up on a challenge; Zayn and Liam like to gaze wantonly across at each other whilst pretending to read Austen; and Niall is the precarious bond that holds them all together.
(Expect some sappy self-indulgent scenes consisting of bed-sharing, 4 am almost-love declarations, drunk texting, and far too much time spent at the student bar for it to be an accurate depiction of uni life.)
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xsixxx · 5 years
Text
Bad Influence, Chapter Seven
Authors Note: Sorry I’m so bad at trying to get these out quickly, I’m working on it, I swear! This is a pretty long one for me & it’s deep so sorry if it’s a little bit boring! Once again, I’ve finished this at 5am so if there are mistakes/it’s incoherent I’m sorry, I’ll proof read it when I wake up 😂 Feedback always welcome!
Warnings: Language, super duper angsty, bit of childhood trauma, Beth & Nikki up to their usual shit
Tags: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberribread @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @deaconsroger @zoenicoles @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99
(There’s like no appropriate gif for this I swear so just enjoy one of Nikki looking cute)
(P.s as much as I love Douglas Booth & I will use The Dirt gifs, I fully picture actual Nikki when I write this, just for a little context 👏🏼)
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*Nikkis POV*
“So what do you say?”
Beth looked hesisitant, but she couldn’t hide the excitement that danced in her eyes as my question lingered in the fraction of a space between our lips. I couldn’t stop the smirk from creeping across my face as I sensed her self control slip for just a moment, her eyes darting to my lips. I could see her wrestling with that darker side of herself that wanted to give in & surrender herself to me
She bit her lip in a poor attempt at self-discipline & her doey brown eyes fixed back on mine with a look of delicious purity that made my leather pants a little tighter.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss her so badly.
But I wouldn’t give in, that was the point. It had to be all her.
Beth knew I was bad for her. As she stood there in front of me, I could tell that every logical part of her brain was screaming at her to walk away, to slap me, to yell at me, to do something to keep me away. She knew I was a bad guy, she’d witnessed it firsthand when I fucked that delectably naive little sister of hers & yet, here she stood, visibly battling with her temptation, a breath away from relinquishing her self control & throwing herself at me. She wanted to do something bad for the first time in her life, just to see how good it felt. And damn, I’d make her feel good.
I wanted to prove that I was right, all those many months ago when I first laid eyes upon her elitist, yet enticing self in that diner; that even good, smart girls like Beth could fall from Grace if they were tempted with the right promises. And she was so close to falling, balancing so delicately on the edge I’d lead her up to. But I wasn’t going to push her, I wanted to watch her jump.
But she took a step back; both from the edge & from me. A dark, confident smirk, not too dissimilar from my own, spread across her dainty features, as she found her self-control firmly back in her grasp. She ran her tongue over her lower lip before pulling it back in between her teeth & biting down on it, knowing full well how good she looked doing it & her voice when she spoke was calm & sultry, velvety smooth with a slight edge. In that moment, she had emulated everything that she hated about me & I couldn’t help but smile.
“I say thank you, but no.” She smirked, raidiating arrogance. “I know what you’re trying to do Nikki.”
“And what is it I’m trying to do, little Angel?” I asked, feigning innocence as best I could.
“I know you’re being the devil on my shoulder, trying to tempt me. And damn, your promises make me wanna sin Nikki,” she paused as she took a second to look me up & down, a gleam of desire in those eyes, “Fuck, they really do.” She confessed. “But I’m sorry, I’m just not one of those girls.”
I let a low chuckle. “Beth, I just watched you cum in the bathroom of your work whilst being fucked by the lead singer of my band not 10 minutes ago.”
She scowled at me, her eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. “I can have casual sex without being one of those girls,” she nodded behind me & I turned to see a a couple of giggling girls at the bar, sipping drinks & trying to catch my attention, flashing flirty smiles my way as they caught me eye. I’d definitely fucked the one. Maybe both. I couldn’t quite recall. “I’m allowed to enjoy sex Nikki, just because it’s with Vince doesn’t make me a groupie. I’m not sleeping with him because he’s in your precious band, I’m sleeping with him because it’s fun & a girl has needs.” She shrugged, defensively.
“So how come you won’t let me satisfy those needs for you, if it doesn’t mean anything?” I grinned.
“Because Sixx, you’re not a good guy & nothing with you could ever just be simple. Look at how you hurt my sister, for Christ sake.” Beth sighed, completely in control once again, shutting off to my deviant corruption. “You’re trying to play a game with me that I’m just not interested in playing, ok?”
“You’re only not interested in my game because you’re shutting yourself off from the side of you that would enjoy playing with me.” I pushed, flashing her a wicked smile, hoping I could pull her back into our little sexually charged exchange, but I could sense from the look that she gave me that the moment was over.
Beth sighed deeply, a look of exhaustion & confliction mixed into her delicate features. Her eyes, full of pain I didn’t understand, met mine one last time before she turned away.
“Goodnight Sixx.”
*Beths POV*
I knocked on the large oak front door & tapped my foot nervously as I waited for an answer, a large sponge cake balanced on top of 2 boxes, wrapped in bright blue wrapping paper that had “happy birthday!” garishly printed all over it.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw my little sisters face emerge from behind the door. Between me moving out & Maddie starting college, we hardly saw anything of each other & I’d missed her more than I’d realised. A wide grin spread across her face as she flung out her arms & ran to me, throwing them around my neck as she hugged me tightly, causing the precariously balanced cake to wobble dangerously.
“Watch it!” I chuckled, pulling away from her grip to catch the cake before it fell. I looked at Maddie, her eyes bright & brimming with tears. “Are you crying?!” I exclaimed.
“I’ve just really fucking missed you Beth!” She laughed, wiping the tears away.
“Madeline, language.” Came the gruff, sharp voice of my father who appeared in the doorway.
“Happy birthday Daddy!” I grinned at the sight of him & walked through the door & putting down the boxes to give him a hug. He pulled me in warmly & I suddenly felt like a kid again, wrapped up safely in the arms of my father & my nerves melted away. He stepped back & looked me up & down, frowning slightly. I blushed, pulling at the hem of my tshirt, my nerves flaring up once again. I’d dressed as conservatively as possible, knowing dad would have something to say if he caught on to my current lifestyle of rockstars, whiskey & the occasional line of cocaine.
“What?” I asked, flustered.
My dad shook his head, his frown disappearing & replaced with a friendly, but cautious smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just thought something just seemed a little different about you, but its nothing.” He finished, sounding unsure before gesturing for us to move into the living room.
I sat down awkwardly on the same beat up sofa that me & Maddie used to build forts on when we were kids & looked around the room. My eyes scanned all the knick knacks & framed photographs that I’d seen a million times over the years & yet, the time away made it feel like I was seeing them through the eyes of an outsider, taking in every detail for the first time. The fireplace was littered with old photos of us as kids, at the beach or playing in the backyard; the faded smiles of a happy childhood. Dust was gathering on the out dated ornaments that were scattered on the various cabinets and coffee tables around the room & the floral wallpaper was looking washed out & old. I glanced across at the table that sat next to me & saw a familiar, heart-wrenching smile that immediately gave me a lump in my throat, too big to swallow.
My mothers kind eyes looked up at me from the ornate framed picture whilst my own instinctively filled with tears. I picked up the photo & gently rubbed my thumb over her face, only wishing I could feel her skin underneath my touch, rather than the cold glass, reminding me that I never would again. I blinked away the tears as I returned the photo back to its prized place on the table, looking back around the living room in search of a distraction. The decor hadn’t changed once in the 10 years since my mom died, almost as if my father was trying to honour her memory by keeping her furniture & trinkets in the same place she had once carefully picked for them. He was treasuring her belongings as she once had, rather than letting them, & her, go.
He tried to do something similar with me & Mads, I thought to myself.
“How’re you doing Daddy?” I asked, suddenly painfully aware of my father now living alone in this unintentional shrine of a house.
“Oh you know, its quiet since you pair left, but I’m coping.” He said, giving us a forced smile. “What about you, are you still working in that hellish bar?”
I rolled my eyes at his judgement & disapproval, it never took long. “Yes Daddy, it pays the rent, remember?”
“I know, I know, I just hate the thought of you working in that sort of environment, surrounded by those kinds of people.” He huffed, shaking his head at the idea of me in the exact situation I was currently in. But I was the sensible one, there’s no way in his worst, most invasive thought, my dad could imagine me heading down the path I was currently on. Hell, I couldn’t believe it sometimes.
But I was still in control & that was the important thing. I knew my limits. No more than a couple of drinks & no getting drunk. No more than a couple of lines of coke & definitely nothing harder than that. No letting the party interfere with my studies or my work. And, my most important rule, no matter how tempted I might be or no matter how fun he might seem, absolutely no Nikki Sixx.
“Dad, I promise, I’m always careful & besides, it’s not as bad as you think.” I shrugged, attempting to downplay his concern. “Anyway,” I said standing up & retrieving his presents & cake from the hall, “let’s stop focusing on me, open up, birthday boy!”
Later
Me & Maddie stood around the block from our childhood home, well out of sight of our fathers overbearing eyes, as we both took a break from his constant paranoid questions about our lives away from home & took long, well-needed drags on our cigarettes. We’d bought ourselves 10 minutes, under the guise that we were walking to the convenience store for some milk, which bought us enough time to burn down our cigarettes & cover the smell by dousing ourselves in cheap but powerful body spray.
“I still can’t believe you’re smoking!” Maddie giggled. “It’s like watching a nun flashing or something!”
I choked slightly as I exhaled, the laugh catching in my throat as her comparison took me by surprise. “Gee, thanks!” I chuckled sarcastically.
“You know what I mean! It’s just you, my smart, goody-two-shoes big sister, is breaking one of Daddy’s golden rules, it bizarre.”
I scoffed at her. “I’m not that bad. I’m not as clean cut as everyone thinks I am.”
“Yeah right! Don’t you remember that night a couple years back when we went to see Mötley Crüe & you saw me smoking for the first time & went crazy at me?” Maddie cackled at the memory. “Oh god & then how you reacted when I went over to speak to them in that diner? You nearly had a heart attack! Fuck, I can’t believe how fast that time has gone!” She sighed contently, breathing out smoke into the brisk evening air. “Do you still see them occasionally at work?”
I took a long drag on my cigerette, drawing it out purposely as I tried to think of a way to answer. I hadn’t told Mads about my partying, or my 6 month on/off fling with Vince or even the fact that I hung around with Mötley at all. I told myself it was partly because I barely saw her & I hadn’t had chance & partly because I didn’t want to upset her, thinking that she’d feel betrayed by her sister socialising with the guy that screwed her over & embarrassed her in front of his band mates. But, if I was being honest with myself, it was more to do with the fact that I wanted to keep this part of my life separate from my messy homelife.
I settled on a simple, vague answer. “Every now & then, they play shows sometimes & say hi.” I shrugged, avoiding eye contact as I brought my cigerette back up to my lips.
“They talk to you?” Maddie quizzed, her eyes bulging with intrigue. “What do they say? Do you speak to Nikki?!”
Fuck, why did I say that last bit?!
I mentally cursed myself for not being vague enough as I searched for a response that could end the conversation. “Erm, they don’t really say much, just a polite hi & bye sort of thing. I haven’t spoke to Nikki though & I wouldn’t want to either, not after everything.” I babbled, flushing red as I attempted to lie, praying that Maddie wouldn’t probe anymore.
“Oh ok..” She sounded almost disappointed. But her eyes caught sight of my burning face. “Why are you blushing? What are you not telling me?!”
“N-nothing.” I stammered, smiling weakly, knowing just how bad I was at lying.
“Oh my god, you’re fucking him, aren’t you?!” Maddie yelled, a mixture of shock & annoyance in her voice. I blushed harder.
Fuck. She knew me too well. “What are you talking about?!”
“You! You’re sleeping with Nikki fucking Sixx, aren’t you?!”
I almost laughed out loud as relief & amusement fell over me like a comforting blanket, the prickling hot panic dying down as I realised sleeping with Vince wouldn’t be half as shocking to Maddie if she already thought I was having sex with that egotistical jackass.
“Oh god no! Maddie, I would never sleep with Nikki!” I laughed. Her face softened as she heard the sincerity in my voice, knowing I could never lie that convincingly.
“So what’s going on?!” She demanded.
“Oh, well um..” I stammered once again, suddenly nervous & awkward to admit the truth to her. “Me & Soph yanno, we hang out with them every now & then. Sophia has slept with Tommy a few times, but nothing major.”
Maddie looked suspicious & concerned. “Just be careful Beth, they’re not good guys, you & I both know this.”
“They’re not all bad. I mean, they’ve got a bad reputation but they’re not really bad guys-”
She cut me off, angrily. “Are you seriously defending them? After what Nikki did to me?!”
“No, of course not- I mean Nikki is, well yanno, he’s Nikki, he’s not the best.. But the rest of them, they’re nice guys- Vince is..” I stumbled, desperately wishing I could just go back 5 minutes & answer Maddies original question with a simple ‘no, I never see Mötley Crüe at work’.
“Oh, so it’s Vince that you’re fucking?!” She asked, cuttingly, raising her perfectly arched eyebrow judgingly.
“Yes” I answered instinctively, before realising. “No. Well, I mean- I have, but that’s got nothing to do with it!” I shouted, flustered & suddenly angry. “What are you getting so annoyed at me for?!” I deflected.
“Why?! Because you’re hanging out with the guys that humiliated me & you’re clearly acting like it never happened!”
“That’s not true! And it wasn’t the guys that humiliated you, it was Nikki & I can’t stand the guy! I even said to him the other night about how much he hurt you-“ But Maddie cut me off once again, shooting me a filthy look.
“How dare you?! How dare you speak to him about how he made me feel!” She began screaming. “That asshole doesn’t deserve to know that he took up one single second of my headspace after I stormed out of that gig, let alone know that he hurt me! I cannot believe that you would share something like that with him, you had no fucking right Beth.” She flicked her cigerette angrily on the floor as she turned & marched in the direction of home.
“Mads, come on, wait up!” I shouted as I ran after her.
“You keep my fucking name out of your goddamn mouth when you’re around that band, do you hear me, you fucking groupie?!” She hissed as she stomped away.
I stood still, shocked, wounded by her words. She’d never spoken to me like that before. I slowed my pace, not bothering to try & catch up as I followed her back home.
•••
I heard shouting as I walked up to the slightly ajar front door. My dads deep, sharp voice cutting though Maddies angry, whiny one.
“You’re in my house, you follow my rules, you know this by now!” He bellowed.
“I don’t live at home anymore, I’m 20 for Christ sake Dad, when are you going to loosen the fucking reigns?!” I winced at the sound of Maddie swearing at our father, knowing he would not take kindly to it.
“You do not speak to me like that, young lady! I am your father, you show me some respect!” He roared, angrier than I’d ever heard him.
I timidly walked through the door, hoping to calm the situation, whatever it was.
“Well you best start screaming at Elizabeth too, because she was doing it as well!” Maddie yelled, pointing at me as I pushed the front door to behind me, hoping to keep from peaking the neighbours interest.
My father let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s typical of you Madeline, trying to shift the blame on to your sister. She’s the responsible one, you really expect me to believe she was smoking too?!”
Shit. We forgot to cover our tracks.
“You’re fucking kidding me with this Miss Perfect shit, right?” Maddie said, laughing without amusement. “Do you know what your precious daughter has been up to recently?!” I held my breathe, my eyes pleading with her to stop. Through all of our sisterly fights, through our our difficult teenage years, we’d never once had a real fight & we’d never once turned on each other.
“She’s been smoking, drinking, fucking a rock band & no doubt doing their drugs too!” Maddie spat smugly, turning to smirk at me with eyes full of anger.
I felt a rage burn inside me as my father gave me a look of disbelief, which soon changed to disappointment & then pure anger. Maddies disloyalty & smug face pushed me over the edge & I snapped. “Well you’d fucking know!” I shot back snidely. “You fucked one of them first. That probably explains how you know they’re quite fond of sharing their drugs, huh Mads?”
“Enough!” My father thundered. “Drugs?! Did you lean nothing from your mothers death?! How could you be so goddamn irresponsible, knowing what you know?! Have I taught you nothing?!”
My fury had been released & there was no keeping it in now. I glared at my dad, my anger spilling over in his direction. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent 10 years treating us like prisoners, never letting us out, never letting us experience anything, we wouldn’t be so desperate to try & figure the world out for ourselves the second we left your damn tyranny.”
My father looked taken aback, hurt. I felt regret almost instantaneously.
“You know that everything I did was to protect you.”
“Yes dad, we know, but you can’t protect us from real life.” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. I didn’t mean to say it, but it was out there now, the truth I’d always felt but refused to acknowledge. It was out & I couldn’t take it back.
His face hardened, like I’d never seen before & it struck fear into my soul.
“If you want real life experiences, go & have them, but know that whilst you act this way, whilst you blatantly disrespect my wishes & insult your mothers memory, you are no daughters of mine.” He said, coldly. “Now get out, both of you.”
Later
I slammed the door to our one bed apartment shut behind me, relieved to be back in my own home though m still shaking with unspent emotion.
I headed towards the room I shared with Sophia, praying she was out so I didn’t have to deal with her questions & I could just climb into bed & sleep off the negativity of this whole day.
As my hand reached for the door handle of the closed bedroom door, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Sophia & Tommy, going at it &, knowing them, it wasn’t going to be a quick thing either. I groaned out loud, hoping they’d hear my annoyance, before I turned & headed back towards the living room. Flopping down on the sofa, I spotted one of my psych books lying on the coffee table with a hot pink sticky note attached to it:
The theory of human motivation, get to it babe, it’s due Monday. - S ♡
“Fuck.” I whispered, realising it was now 10pm on Sunday & I hadn’t even started.
“Could this day get any fucking worse?” I complained aloud to myself as I picked up the textbook & note pad Soph had thoughtfully left beside it.
“What an apt moment to make my entrance.” Nikki chuckled darkly, causing me to jump a mile & let out a girlish squeal, as he emerged from the kitchen.
“You fucking idiot, Sixx!” I screamed, throwing a pillow in his direction, ducking just in time for it to miss his amused expression. “You scared the shit outta me, dick!” I panted, holding my heart. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”
“Well, apparently Tommy needed to pick something up from Sophia, so I came here with him & he went into the bedroom to get it. That was half an hour ago & he’s yet to come back out, so I made myself at home.” He smiled, taking a bite out of the sandwich I hadn’t noticed him holding. “You only had wholemeal bread though.” He said, pulling a face of disgust between bites.
I scowled at him, shaking my head, not having the energy to rise to his bait tonight. He was obviously disappointed.
“What’s wrong Princess?” He smirked, “Still not ready to play with me?”
“Nikki, please. It’s been a hard day & I’ve got a paper to write by 9am tomorrow morning. Just please, please not tonight, I can’t deal with your games right now.” I pleaded, feeling the tears involuntarily fill my eyes as the true level of my metal & physical exhaustion hit me like a train. I wiped them away quickly, praying Nikki hadn’t noticed.
“Are- Um, are you, yanno, ok?” He mumbled awkwardly, moving towards the sofa, trying to judge whether or not it was safe to sit down next to me.
“I’m fine,” I sniffed, turning my face away from him as he made the decision to sit. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, if you wouldn’t mind.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong & sure, not ready to show weakness in front of the man that I knew was capable of manipulating it if he felt like it.
“Do y- Ahem” he coughed awkwardly, pretending to clear his throat, “do you wanna talk about it?”
I let out a small, weak laugh, bringing my eyes back to meet his. He looked uncomfortable, fidgeting as he attempted to offer me some level of comfort. I couldn’t help but smile at his effort, no matter what his intentions behind it were. “No Sixx, I really don’t. But, um, thanks.”
He nodded, visibly uncomfortable. “So, uh, what’s your paper about?” He asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
“The theory of human motivation.”
“Ah ok, so like what drives people?” Nikki inquired thoughtfully, perking up a little.
“Sort of.. Well, have you ever heard of Maslows hierarchy of needs?” Nikki shook his head but looked intrigued, so I continued. “So, according to this psychologist, there are 5 levels of human needs & you have to attend to the lower levels before you can satisfy the levels higher up. So, for example, level 1 is your basic needs, food, water etc. You need those in order to attend to level 2, which is security, safety. It continues up to love & relationships, then self esteem & then self actualisation, achieving ones dreams essentially. That’s the top tier, the end goal.”
“Ok yeah, I get it. I’m down for the first level, I mean obviously I gotta survive, but I don’t need security or love or that shit to achieve my goal.” Nikki laughed. “I think this Maslow guy needs to met someone like me. Growing up without love & stability only made me more determined.”
“Well yeah, it made you more determined because you’re unknowingly seeking that love & security through your music & your band. You’re hoping your career will provide you with the security you never had & that your fans will provide you with the love. Every human falls into the model, one way or another.” I shrugged, smirking at his dumbfounded expression.
“Ok little miss psychologist, being as you clearly know me so well, analyse me.” Nikki sniggered.
I shook my head, “it doesn’t work like that. But,” I continued as inspiration struck me, “I could use you as the subject for my paper, I think you’d make an interesting case, with your inflated sense of ego & all.”
Nikki flashed his usual, arrogant smirk. “Well, doesnt sound like Tommy is gonna be done any time soon. Ok, you’ve got yourself a test subject, Princess.” He winked.
“Ok, lets do this properly. No messing around, I need to you answer my questions as best you can Sixx, promise?” I raised my eyebrows at his wide grin.
“I promise I’ll try.” He responded, raising his hand mockingly.
I grabbed my notepad & pen & began scribbling down some notes to start me off.
After a couple of minutes of writing, I looked up. Nikki was sat patiently, lighting a cigerette & gazing off to the side, lost in thought. The sight of him sent my stomach into freefall as I took that moment to appreciate his features, his strong jawline & thoughtful eyes. He caught me staring & his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned once again, shattering my vision of this deep, soulful artist. I laughed at my own foolish thought that Nikki Sixx was anything more than he appeared to be at face value. He proved that with his answer to my first question.
“Ok, So Nikki Sixx, tell me what it is that you do.”
“What do I do?” He asked, that roguish gleam in his eyes twinkling as gave me that troublesome smirk once again. “Oh, I do bad things.” He answered.
“Yeah, this was a bad idea.” I snapped, slamming my notepad shut with exasperation. “I should’ve figured you weren’t capable of taking anything seriously.”
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll be sensible.” He laughed. “I am the creator & bassist of a rock band called Mötley Crüe.”
I gave him a stern, warning look before continuing. “And tell me, what lead you to peruse a career in music?”
“Music was the one constant thing throughout my childhood & teenage years. It cut through the boredom & the bullshit in my life. It inspired me.” He said simply, but passionately. I brought my eyes up from the notepad to look at him, his eyes truly thoughtful this time as I imagined him reminiscing about the first album he’d ever bought or the first time he held a bass. Whatever he was remembering, it tugged at the corners of his lips as a genuine smile appeared on his face, taking the place of his usual smirk. I couldn’t help but smile along with him, taking in his beauty & serenity in that moment.
“So, ahem”, I coughed, bringing myself back to reality, “What was music an escape from? What lead you to feel so passionately about it?”
“I had a shitty upbringing.” He said bluntly. “My dad split when I was 3 & it was obvious that I was just a burden to my mom. Whenever I got in the way of her lifestyle, she’d ship me off to my grandparents who constantly moved around. And when she did want me, I was just a punching bag for her asshole boyfriends.”
“Nikki, I’m sorry, I had no idea..” I trailed off.
“It’s fine Princess, it is what it is.” He shrugged, but I sensed he wasn’t as ok with it as he was making out. “So when I found music, it was suddenly like ‘this is it, this is what I’ve been looking for’, it just made sense to me & I’ve been infatuated ever since.”
“Sixx, look, we don’t have to do this, I didn’t realise that this went as deep as it does, I don’t wanna intrude..”
“It’s ok. It must be hard to imagine broken families when you’re not from one.” Nikki responded a little sharply, his presumption catching me off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“No, I just meant that when you have a stable family, it must be hard to imagine that some parents don’t love or want their kids, yanno?”
I laughed humourlessly at his false premise. “Trust me, there is nothing stable about my family.”
“Oh come on Beth. You’re telling me that you, the well educated Daddy’s girl from the good neighbourhood, had a rough childhood, really?” Nikki scoffed, rolling his eyes.
I snapped, growing tiresome of his stereotypical opinion of me. “You don’t know the first thing about me Sixx, stop pretending that you do.”
“Kind I’d like how you didn’t know the first thing about me until 5 minutes ago? Yet, you’ve always made your judgements on my attitude & my lifestyle. I’m just returning the favour doll.” He replied, raising his eyebrow pointedly.
I sighed, resigning to his annoyingly accurate point. “Ok fine. Not that I owe you any explanation,” I started, looking anywhere in the room but at those piercing eyes that were focused so intently on me. “My mom OD’d when I was 13. She was prescribed painkillers after a car accident & she just never came off them.”
“Fuck.” Nikki whispered. “Doll, I’m sorry.”
I shook my head as I felt the tears prick in my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “Our dad wrapped me & Maddie up in bubble wrap after that & made us fearful of the world. He took us out of school & homeschooled us, never really let us socialise, we never got to go out & see our friends, he all but kept us locked up.” I sighed, thinking back to the harsh words I’d said to my father earlier on that day, the regret & guilt flooding back & overwhelming me once again. “I know he was doing what he thought was best, keeping us safe & protected from anything or anyone that could harm us or influence us.”
“Someone like me?” Nikki teased, trying to lighten the mood.
I let out a soft giggle. “Exactly.”
Nikki gently placed his hand under my chin, lifting my head up fractionally so that my eyes met his. His gaze drifted to my cheek as a lone tear fell silently down it. His grazed his thumb softly against my skin, wiping it away with a simple caress that sent shivers through my body. I felt weak under his touch. That same touch that had once set fire to my mind did so once more & I instantly craved him all over again.
“Who knew you could be a good guy when you wanted to be?” I whispered as his thumb trailed from my cheek to my lips, his eyes fixated on them.
“I’m the devil Lizzy, remember?” He muttered back, restraint evident in this voice. “I’m not a good guy.”
“Being good doesn’t get you anywhere. Trust me, I know.” I breathed, leaning in to him & letting my lips brush his, using his own trick against him. “Kiss me, Sixx.” I whispered.
“You don’t want this, Angel.” He warned gently.
“And how do you know what I want?”
His brow furrowed, confliction obvious in his dark green eyes. “You’re upset & you’ve had a bad day. This isn’t you & as much as I want you, I don’t want you this way, you’re not thinking clearly.” He sighed.
“Fuck, Nikki, I can’t fucking win! So what, you only want me if I’m like all of those other groupies, drunk in a bar & throwing myself at you, is that it?” I snapped, moving away from him.
“No Beth, that’s not it.” He replied bluntly, running his hands through his messy hair. “But look, you’re emotional & vulnerable & I-“ he stumbled, unsure whether to continue. “I’m not the solution to your problem Beth ok, I’m not that kinda guy.”
I laughed sharply. “Wow, because I’m so insecure in myself that I must need you to comfort & validate me, right? Christ Nikki, it must be exhausting fanning your own fucking ego like that.”
“Why else would you be coming on to me now?!”
“Because for a second Nikki, you actually seemed like a decent guy, like maybe you actually had a heart. And for a fucking second, I didn’t despise you.” I laughed, bitterly. “Silly me!”
“But that’s just it Beth, you know I’m not a decent guy. I wanna fuck you, I mean Christ, you know I do. But I wanna make you feel bad, I wanna fulfil your darkest fantasies, I don’t wanna just be your comfort fuck, that’s just not what I do Beth, I’m sorry.” He muttered, shaking his head.
“How fucking dare you?!” I fumed, shoving his shoulder & standing up. “How dare you presume that I fucking need your comfort. I can take care of myself, Sixx, thanks.” I turned around, walking towards the kitchen, muttering to myself “God forbid I should just find him attractive for a fraction of a second & wanna act on it-”
I heard Nikki stand up & I spun round to give him more of my mind, but he was quick & I was suddenly standing chest to chest with him, my face at the level of his neck & I caught his musky scent & I was momentarily intoxicated. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from imagining what it would be like to feel his skin under my lips as I placed kisses along his neck, nipping & sucking as I went. My mouth watered slightly at the thought.
“Ok Lizzy. Prove it.” Nikki tested, his forehead resting lazily on mine as I brought my eyes up to look at him. They were dark, yet I could sense the struggle & hesitance in them, along with the desire that I’d come to recognise so well.
“Prove what?” I asked stubbornly.
“That you want me. Prove me wrong, do something reckless & impulsive just because you know it’ll feel good. Make that decision to jump.” He whispered, his breath brushing my face as his words & his eyes drew me in, pulling me down, under his spell.
Once again, he brought his lips to mine, allowing them to brush together, sending sparks of electricity & passion surging through my body, but he restrained from kissing me. He wanted me to be the one to do it. He wanted to be right.
Fuck, I wanted to prove him right.
“You’re the devil, Nikki Sixx.” I murmured softly.
He smirked against my lips, knowing he had finally won. “Angel, something tells me you can’t help but enjoy it.”
I tiptoed & titled my head up towards Nikki, closing the gap in between our lips, surrendering myself to him. My lips crashed on to his & immediately that fire that only he could ignite spread to every part of me. My mind, my body, my soul we’re all ablaze with the feeling of him. For the first time in years, I did something I knew I shouldn’t, for no other reason than because I simply wanted to. There was no hidden reason or agenda, I just wanted him.
No, I craved him. I wanted him to show me the darker side of myself he promised, I wanted him to show me what my body was made for.
He pressed himself against me, tasting me, wrapping his arms around my waist & pulling me in closer. I could feel that tantalisingly smirk against my lips, I could taste his arrogance & it only made me want him more. I buried my fingers into his hair, gripping with desperate ferocity as he picked me up & thrust me roughly onto the kitchen work surface, deepening his kiss, causing me to moan gently into his mouth.
Nikki groaned seductively, breaking the kiss. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you make that noise for me.” He breathed, his hands travelling up my body to cup my face, holding it roughly, forcing me to look into his hungry eyes. He studied for me a second as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, my body aching for his kiss.
“I knew I could make you fall from Grace.” He smirked. “We’re gonna have fun so much fun together, little Angel.” He grinned wickedly, letting go of my face but keeping his hand under my chin.
I smirked, a new found confidence washing over me as ran my hands through Nikkis disheveled hair & looked into those dark eyes.
I leaned in towards him, my soft lips grazing his lobe purposefully as I whispered proactively into his ear. “You have no idea what you’ve just started. Just because you won this round, doesn’t mean I’m gonna make this easy for you. When I’m through, even the devil is going to kneel before me.” I drawled, mimicking his arrogance before hopping off the work surface & walking away, leaving Nikki with his mouth open, desperate for more.
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katreal-fic · 4 years
Text
Day 2 — for #fictober 10/02/19
Prompt: “Just follow me, I know the area.”
Fandom: Homestuck
Warnings: Cursing I suppose. 2nd Person POV
Characters: Dirk Strider & Davepetasprite
First | Previous | Next
x-x-x
It was pretty fun, until you got hopelessly lost.
“Just follow me, he said,” Davepeta quotes the you of an hour ago, hiding their fanged smile unapologetically behind their blue ice cream cone, “I know the area, he said. The best pizza ever, he said.”
Dirk > Nurse Your Pride
Your pride is not wounded, and thus does not need to be nursed. Entirely unruffled by the teasing. It does not bother you. You make sure indifference is the air you project as you respond with a mild, unimpressed glare—one they can’t see behind your shades—but you’re familiar enough with their expressive body language by now to realize they find even your glares funny. 
You don’t know how to feel about that. It’s actually quite the novel experience after the probably healthy levels of fear and distant awe your mere presence affords to anyone not connected to your particular pantheon of childhood friends. Who you probably don’t see enough as it is, living secluded out here in your workshop off the coast of the consort kingdom. Which is likely your fault, if you’re entirely honest. You should visit more. You can fuckin’ fly. What’s a couple latitude and several longitude lines to a god?
There’s always an excuse. When the lime-green poison and flashes of white begins to seep through the cracks in your heart you just shut yourself in and work. You’ll figure this shit out. And deal with it. You’ll have to.
You decide not to dwell on it any more than you already have, “Do you even need to eat? You already sweet-talked that salamander outta that ice-cream. You’ve probably already ruined your lunch with that shit.”
“Nah, dad, I’m cool.” They do it to see you twitch, you know they do, even as they take another lick of the sweet treat, “Just cuz I don’t need to eat doesn’t mean I can’t. No stomach, can’t get full. Being of pyurrre energy up in here bro.”
They pat their abdomen lightly to prove their point, the long, almost dress-like robe largely stays some cream color despite the constant gradient shifting, almost giving off an ethereal glow from within. A being of pure energy, huh? You wonder if that’s what they are doing with the food–residual game play processes immediately transmuting the energy into something compatible. You don’t know much about the sprites, for obvious reasons. You never were particularly close to any of the others.
Man, sprite physics has the potential to be fascinating as hell, if you cared to dissect it. It makes for a good thought exercise, mapping out what would happen to all thr excess energy.
“Let me guess, push it too far and you’ll just get hyper as fuck, huh?”
“Yup!” Another lick, a grin. They always seem to be grinning, but that might be just because the overlong canines always seem to peek out mischievously, “Roxy didn’t realize that until we were paws deep in a pumpkin eating contest. In all fairness, neither did I! I could probably devour an entire musclebeast all on my lonesome if I deemed it apurrrrropriate. I’d purrobably be clawing at the walls like Jasprose on catnip if I did tho. Not sure if the consequences are worth poking at it, ya’know?”
That…is something of a mental image. “Have you seen this particular occurrence?”
“Nah, but you remewmber how hopped up she was befur the big battle?”
Like you could ever forget.
“I’m sure you can imagine it then. It’s purrrrrretty hissterical.”
The elongated rs turn into a purring rumble, as expected. They really do go all in on the cat-thing, huh? Can’t be worse than ARquius’ obsession with muscles. And horses. Tho you do have to give him props for that one, Horses are fucking awesome.
Trolls just seem to have a Thing, you guess. Just like the Batterwitch had a Thing for subjugation. Cats and Horses and Muscles seem much more reasonable, framed in that light.
Once the purr runs its course, and you go back to scouring Booble Maps–which are kind of useless outside the Human and Troll kingdoms. The Consorts just Don’t Care and fuck if you know what’s up with the Carapacians–they decide to continue, “It’s just funny, with the way you talked this place up on the way over it sounds like you should have that shit on speed-dial or something. All Prince of Heart’s Seal of Approval, endorsed and all that. Tourism would be booming.”
“I like it quiet. Tourism is the opposite of quiet. Especially when people are here god-watching,” At least Jake’s TV show is filmed an hour’s flight away so you don’t have to deal with his groupies, even if some make the pilgrimage to try and catch a glimpse of you.
You grumble, trying to remember the name of the place. You do have it on speed dial, but it was listed as tmnt instead of using the proper name. Past you had been so proud of the reference. When was the last time you actually went instead of just got delivery sent to your beach-side drone deliverybot? When Dave dragged you out last?
…when the fuck was that?
You shouldn’t get lost. You live here.
Or, well, maybe you don’t. You’re standing here in the shadow of an unidentified Jungle Tree, in some unnamed suburb of the city of Hearthstone. A city that popped up near your abandoned workshop during the big ol’ Time Skip. A dot on the map and a place to deliver your shit. Nothing more.
You surreptitiously check the calendar using your thought controlled computer-shades, realize it’s still set to your personal pre-sburb calendar, marked with all the historical dates from a Time Before Yours and indexed with clips of your Bro and you really aren’t in the mood for childhood nostalgia whiplash, thanks—so you abandon that shit and go back to booble to see if you can find the current date on there.
Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick, it’s been two years since Dave visited, although you’ve talked to him since then. You’re nearly twenty.
“Hey bro,” Davepeta, predictably, interrupts your existential crisis in regards to your detachment from the society and narrative in which you live, an unintentional action you mentally thank them for since you are so not in the mood to deal with that either, “That pizza place, was it called Half Shell Piez?”
That rings a bell. You nod, probably a little too forcefully as you mentally close the booble search window and start paying attention to the world around you, “I think so. It’s run by an older couple of turtles, if I remember. How did you know?”
“While you were brooding I asked around. Turns out people remember when two of their gods descend from on high to patronage their pizza joint. C’mon! World’s best hunter is on the case! We’ll stalk them wild piez and feast until we can feast no longer!”
You’re learning not to resist as they drag you away. Maybe they’re right. You really should be getting out more. You don’t even know your own fucking town.
The pizza is just as good as you remember it though. Better even, since you get it hot and steamy and fresh plopped right in the middle of the table in front of you, instead of luke-warm in an insulated delivery bag, sitting out on the table for you to grab as you work. Alone. Here, you find yourself surprisingly good company. You don’t even notice when the ridiculous chatter ends and conversations…shift. They did want to get to know you, after all.
You don’t think your shit is all that interesting personally, especially if you avoid the game shit because no one really liked talking about game shit since you all won, but they listen with rapt attention as you describe growing up in a world alone and feral, learning from and looking up to a Bro long since dead. They turn around afterwards and describe a wriggler, feral and alone, who grew up in the middle of a jungle and learned to hunt from a great purr beast, on an Alternia you’d never cared to learn about before.
You don’t comment when the last slice is gone and the pizza is taken away. You just…keep talking. Exchanging stories in that semi-private booth in a hole in the wall restaurant run by business-savvy turtles, long past an appropriate lunchtime, and well into dinner.
Time becomes a thing to dread, because you know they’ll be leaving tomorrow.
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